Patches, the Volturi Pet
by CityCat
Summary: Everybody has a dark side, some darker and more damaging than others. Meet Patches, a young man granted a second chance at life as a guard of the world's most powerful vampire coven. Starting over seems easy enough, just within grasp. But it is never so, for how could anyone escape their past and their memories?
1. Discovery

**Patches, the Volturi Pet**

Aro signaled for the others to travel on. He knew he saw something move in the back of the van, a face maybe. Glancing at the violently torn up bodies sprawled around his shoes, he mused whether the face saw the whole scene. Of course it did, or else it wouldn't have looked away when their eyes met each other's curious stare. He glided to the trunk, ripping the door clean off and tossing it behind him. A tortured face peered up at him, the rest of its slim figure tucked into a tight ball in a corner. _A boy,_ Aro deduced. _No older than seventeen_. The clothes he wore frayed from use, an unsightly camouflage green color with splotched brown spots and stripes. _Military? _At a closer glance, the boy had some sort of dog tag about his neck, an inch and a half of silver clasped close to the broken skin. "Patches", it read in a sharp cursive hand. That had to be his name, and Aro could see why. Little clusters of dust and dirt clung to his messy auburn hair, his forehead, and down his cheeks, save for clear stripes that raked through the grime starting under his large green eyes.

Aro couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something special about this boy worth taking home to Volterra. The men he had killed earlier seemed keen on protecting this van and it was likely this kid was the reason. He could walk away with the others, but the laws he upheld gave him no choice in the matter. He saw too much; it was either kill him or bargain that he'll be useful. One way to find out. Aro extended an arm to touch him. The boy immediately responded by ducking his head and trembling uncontrollably with fear. "Come, little one," the vampire said softly in his ancient voice. "I won't hurt you." The boy lifted his head again, letting the man touch the center of his forehead with a finger.

The red eyes vanished under thick lids with deep concentration. He saw the boy's entire past and present in the longest twenty seconds of his existence. _Not military at all._ He retracted his finger and took a second glance at the numerous dark puddles on his clothes. _Not clothes dye. Dried blood_. The silver collar that bore his name was no accident either. _Not a boy,_ he concluded at last. _An abused animal—a domesticated pet._ "Here," he whispered, finding the child's waist and lifting him out of the van. "You're coming home with me." He set him on the ground where he immediately dropped down on all fours, a look of anxious wonder reflecting in his eyes. Aro glanced around the area where the dead bodies began to attract flies. He pulled out a lighter with one hand and pointed down in front of him with the other. "Wait here," he ordered, sidestepping around the boy and proceeded to drop flames over the corpses. Little fires smoldered the rotting flesh to instant ashes. He double-checked for any he could have missed when he spotted his foundling disappearing in the wood in an attempt to crawl away from him. Aro sighed, shaking his head and darting after him. The boy let out a distressed cry as he was scooped up, the first sound he made all day. Aro could tell he did not like being touched, but there had to be some way to get him to his castle without him deliberately trying to run off.

"Shh, that's enough." Tears were forming in the child's mint green eyes as he fell silent in Aro's arms. The vampire carried him back to the van and looked inside the driver's seat. Sure enough, a long, thin chain leash lay coiled in a cup holder. _That'll do_. He had to put the boy back down to demolish the door. He did so in seconds, his eyes never leaving him. To his surprise, the young one stayed perfectly still as his lead was put on, clearly used to the process. Aro smiled, gripping onto the very end of the other side to give the boy plenty of space to move around. "Walk this way," he said as he turned to travel in the direction of Volterra. He took a few steps and looked over his shoulder, only to find that the child was still crawling on all fours. He shook his head. "No, no. _This _way." He lifted him up and placed him solidly on two feet, waiting a few seconds before slowly backing away. "Now, walk to me as I do." The boy cautiously raised a foot and dragged it in front of him, then did the same with the other. He held his arms out as if he expected himself to fall, but nevertheless made it to Aro in under a minute. The vampire nodded his approval. "Good. Let us walk together now." He took slow, easy steps and the boy followed his lead, quickly getting the hang of it. They traveled in the manner to the end of the wood and across the border of the Italian city the vampire called home.

"Do you know English?" Aro asked at last, seizing the opportunity to become acquainted with his foundling. The boy said nothing but simply nodded. "Can you speak it?" Again, another nod.

"A-A little," came the cracked response. Aro smiled with delight. This was certainly progress. He heard an agitated rumbling sound emitting from the boy's stomach.

"Are you hungry?"

"Mm-hmm." Aro drummed his fingers on a pant leg. Perhaps now would be a good time to set some standards.

"That's not an answer," he stated plainly. "Use your words."

"Y-Yes," the small voice tried again. Aro still wasn't satisfied.

"Yes,_ what_?" he inquired, his crisp tone now carrying an edge of authority.

"Yes, p-please." The smile reappeared as they walked on to where the rolling hills of wild grass met the clean cut backyards of city houses. Aro flipped the hood of his ebony cloak over his head and took the boy by his hand. With a small _click_, the chain dropped into his palm and he slipped it into his pocket.

"Stay close. We will be home soon." With that, they blended into the city streets, passing a dozen bistros and snack carts along the way. He felt the child's eyes roam around, knowing the endearing smells of freshly made food teased him. He quickened his pace and stopped at they neared the huge castle. "Here it is. Home." As they entered the shady atmosphere, a chilled shudder ran down the child's spine. A young woman met them at the front, standing up to greet them with a dazzling smile. Like Aro, she had blazing red irises that matched her dress.

"Good afternoon, Master Aro," she chirped, dropping a dainty curtsy.

"Good afternoon, Heidi." He stopped and gestured to his companion with his head. "Will you go fetch this child something to eat, please? Something with substance." Heidi eyed the smaller of the two with a curious stare before curtsying a second time and slipping into the city square.

**Patches' POV**

I couldn't decide if I was going to like this new place the man said was going to be my new home. It was bigger than anything I've known in a long time, and yet so cold; it didn't have a homey feeling about it at all. The man, whose name was "Master Aro", mentioned something about a bath and requested that I follow him up a flight of stairs. I couldn't stop shaking from either the cool air, my low blood sugar, or most likely from both. We passed a few other red-eyed people along the way, all of them pleasantly smiling at the man and then throwing a mildly disgusted look at me. He led me into a simple bedroom that had a bathroom and a closet branching from either side. "This will be your room," he told me with a gentle smile. It had a regular sized bed in the center, a wooden dresser with a lamp on the left, and a desk with a cushioned chair next to a small empty bookshelf on the right. But what I liked most was the large window behind the bed. It gave the room the most light and I could see the whole town down below. Master Aro gave my hand a squeeze and guided me into the bathroom, which was half the size of the bedroom, the largest I've ever seen. It had a roomy porcelain bathtub I could practically swim in, a sink with a mirror above it, and another closet for towels and soap. I noticed the distinct lack of toilet and didn't know what to make of it. Everyone needs to relieve themselves _sometime_.

I look curiously up at him and saw that he was already shutting the door and locking us both inside. My heart began to thump; I don't do well in tight spaces. He let go of my hand to start the bathtub water, permitting me to explore every square inch on my own. I waited until his back was turned to reach for the door handle. "Don't even think about it," he warned without turning his head. My arm dropped in defeat. I thought about how people looked when they saw me and hesitantly approached the mirror. I inhaled a sharp gasp at my reflection; I was a hideous sight! My face was dirty and deformed with scars and bruises from yesterday's punishments. I ran a finger over the greatest one of all—the scar from stitches that sewed the left corner of my lips into my cheek, leaving a ghastly permanent grin. The water stopped running and I felt a cool hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, dear one. The majority of those will go away soon." I looked up at Master Aro's smiling face, and I got the uneasy feeling that he knew everything about me: my thoughts, feelings, dark secrets, darker experiences, everything. "Ready for your bath?" I turned to the tub filled with steamy water and a generous amount of bubbles. It looked inviting.

"Y-Yes," I said with a small smile, waiting for him to leave so I could get in. In the next moment, it was clear that he had other plans. He pinched the top of my shirt and tore it down the middle, letting it fall off me. My bare chest and back were exposed to him. My eyes filled with tears of shame; I knew the welts behind me looked like an Etch-A-Sketch doodle drawn by a first grader. Before he got any further, I backed away from him, crossing my arms defensively over my thighs. Master Aro stared at me, looking offended.

"What's this? I thought you wanted to get cleaned up."

"A-Alone," I answered, finding my voice. He simply continued to smile as he backed me into a corner. He got on one knee and pried my hands from my legs, holding them both in one hand as he stripped me completely bare with the other. I closed my eyes and began to cry, thinking only of how appalled he was to look at me. He waited patiently until I was done and opened my eyes. No such disgust or pity was in his face.

"I know you are capable of cleaning yourself, but I'll bathe you this time. You are still physically weak and I won't have you accidentally drown or hurt yourself." He walked me over to the tub and helped me get in. The water was refreshingly warm and relaxing and smelling of cherry blossoms. "If you are good for me, I'll let you have as much food as you'd like afterwards." My eyes followed him as he swiftly removed his cloak and rolled up his sleeves. His arms were pale and slim, but muscular and flawless. When he caught me looking, I slid lower into the tub until my entire head was underwater. I slowly turned my head from side to side, swishing the loose debris out of my hair. A hand that could only be his found the back of my head and pushed me back up.

"I believe I just told you I do not wish for you to drown," he said with stern eyes that wiped my smile away. "Do not do that again." I blinked up at him, automatically regretting my actions. This man cared for me, he really did. I knew in that moment he would look after me, and I promised myself to show my gratitude by doing everything I could to please him. Even at the cost of my own happiness.


	2. Birth of a Newborn

**Aro's POV**

Despite the hot, soapy water I pressed over his wounds, Patches made little noise but never once tried to squirm away from me as I cleaned him. Tonight, I would formally introduce him to the rest of the guard and my brothers. Tonight, after he has eaten, I would turn him into one of us. His history, I decided, I would share with no one. That is his secret and I shall leave it with him. After his bath, I gave him some of Alec's older clothes to wear; they were roughly the same height and stature. Heidi came later with two armfuls of food for the boy, which he ate hungrily like a dog tearing into a bone. His eating habits were far from acceptable but in light that it was his last human meal, I let him devour to his heart's content. When he couldn't stuff himself any more, he wiped his mouth and smiled up at me. "Shall we go downstairs to meet the others?" His smile dropped as did his expressive eyes.

"What if they don't l-like m-me?" I took his hand and helped him stand.

"Then they don't like you; I cannot make them feel any different. But you can," I added encouragingly. "At the very least, they will respect you. If you do as you're told, they'll have no reason not to." I walked him back down the stairs and into the throne room where most of our feedings took place. Every member of the guard was present, expecting their evening meal. They did not receive news of an introductory meeting or that I instructed Heidi to stall the tour group as long as possible. The only two missing were my brothers, Caius and Marcus. All eyes were on us as we entered.

"Listen well, my dear ones," I began cheerfully. "Tonight, I have the pleasure of introducing a new addition to our coven. His name, as you can read inscribed about his neck, is Patches. I trust you all to treat him with respect as a fellow guard from this moment on." I paused, scanning the room once more for the missing two. "Does anyone here know the whereabouts of Marcus and Caius?"

"They were uninformed of this meeting, Master," intoned the familiar voice of Jane near my right.

"Go and bring them here, won't you Jane?" She gave a curt nod and disappeared from the room. I glanced down at my foundling whose eyes were fixated on all the others watching him. Taking him by the shoulder, I turned him toward the high seats perched atop a stage-like base at the end of the room. "Sit with me," I offered, already heading toward my throne in the center. As I rested comfortably, every other pair of eyes stared dumbfounded to my left. Patches was already pulling himself up on the ancient chair, just as its owner came sauntering through the doors with a loud boom.

"What is _that _in my throne?!" Caius demanded, the flames in his eyes flashing murderously. I rose at once as he advanced.

"Peace, Brother. He doesn't know any better—a…lone survivor of a hunting raid." I gestured to him with a finger to come closer and watched with a smile as he ran up to me, clinging to my arm for protection.

"And does _he _have a name?"

"Of course," I answered evenly. "Caius, this is Patches, who is going to stay with us."

"For now," growled my fellow coven brother. He stared condescendingly down at the boy and scoffed. "Patches, a pet name. How appropriate."

"I advise you not to speak of what you do not understand, Caius. I plan to turn him and train him myself." Behind him, some of our observing audience were exchanging amused glances. Normally, I'd leave the majority of training newborns to Felix and Renata, but I felt a personal responsibility for this one. He didn't seem like a natural fighter and I couldn't imagine him gleaning much from Felix.

"A wise decision, Aro," said a calm voice appearing on my right. Marcus strode up to us, smiling fondly at the child still at my sleeve. "You seem to be his only strong connection so far." I briefly nodded in agreement. "He's certainly taken a liking to you."

"Then it's all settled," I declared, motioning for everyone to step back while I led Patches to the middle of the room. "Alec?" My guard in question stepped forward and at my signal released his power over the two of us. I guided Patches down on his knees and wrapped one arm around his waist to keep him from squirming. He whimpered in fear as I pressed his head down, leaving his neck exposed for my bite. Alec's smoke washed him completely in vertigo before I pushed up his collar and injected my venom into the tender skin beneath. I gave it a minute or so to sink in. No doubt he would be thirsty as an immediate result of his new change. The smoke cleared at last and his small form lay unconscious for the last time in his existence.

**Patches' POV**

I was dead. I had to be. And yet I wasn't, for I had the knowledge to tell the difference. It was pitch black and eerily silent when I woke up; no pounding heartbeat, no pulse, not even a breathing sound could fill the absolute emptiness all around me. I groped around for any sense of location: walls, furniture, a door. No sooner when I began to move, a light metallic rattle echoed behind me. I instinctively reached behind me and sure enough, a thicker chain protruded from somewhere on my neck. My immediate thought was that of punishment. _Did I do something wrong? _The blonde one, "Caius", didn't seem to like me at all. From somewhere distant, I heard the barely audible click of small shoes that sounded a lot like that petite girl Master Aro called "Jane". "I think he's awake," I heard her say. Then the footsteps became quieter and quieter until I could hear them no more.

My mind began to race as I searched frantically for a reason why I was here. I recalled the events from last night…or was it day? I couldn't tell anymore; in fact, I had no sense of time anymore. _What did they do to me? _All I knew was that I met a room full of very silent people with matching clothes and then I saw a big black cloud swallow me up like fog. Then everything went dark. _Am I still in that cloud? _Most likely not, or else I wouldn't be able to feel or hear anything. Mind-numbing gas, I assume. A sedative anesthesiologists employ on their patients before the surgeon performs the operation. The small footsteps returned, as did a heavier set I knew was Master Aro's and another of whom I couldn't recognize. In the corner of the dark room, a door opened and light came flooding in with a brilliance so intense that I had to shield my eyes. A dimmer light switched on in the room and the door was swiftly locked shut.

"Hello, my dear Patches," Master Aro called to me in a cheery voice I was glad to hear. "So glad to see your turning has been successful." What "turning"? What's wrong with me?! My expression must have said it all, for he said, "There now, such reactions are expected. We are here to help you adapt to your new life here with us." I looked up after my eyes adjusted and saw he had two women with him: Jane, and a young brunette. "Patches, this is Renata. She is my personal guard and my protection for today." Renata smiled and looked me over the way most girls look at puppies in a window. I turned away embarrassed, the chain tailing behind me. Then she did something that got my attention on levels I didn't understand. She uncorked something behind my back, and a delectable aroma of something sweet, like cherry syrup, hit my senses like a wrecking ball on a brick wall. I felt my vision sharpen and my tongue tingle—as if my entire body was set on me obtaining and draining that bottle of whatever it was. "What you smell is blood," he continued calmly as if it was perfectly natural. _No, not true. Blood doesn't smell like that—not nearly as appealing as that! _"Have you heard of…vampires before?"

Of course, I have. From where I was from, everyone was raised on rumors of vampires prowling around, sucking the life out of naughty children in their sleep. When you're from Transylvania in the heart of Romania, you pick up on these types of things. "Yes." Master Aro just kept smiling like nothing was wrong.

"Believe me when I confess we vampires exist." _We?! _As in him, and the others I saw earlier? Renata let me see the bottle she opened, brandishing it before my eyes. Sure enough, the sloshing liquid inside couldn't have looked more like human blood. I glanced at all three of them, trying to find some further explanation to assure myself I really wasn't among legendary bloodthirsty creatures of the night. But in their eyes, all I saw was an identical reddish, demonic tint. Another feature of a vampire, I recalled.

"You have r-red eyes…" They all slowly nodded in unison. Master Aro took a round mirror from the blazer he wore and stuck it in my face. It was _my _face, and the green eyes I once knew were a freaky dark red, practically _black_! "N-No, no…no, no, NO!" I slapped the mirror away and screamed into the wall, the last place I could turn to. "Why did you do this to me? What did I do?!" I sobbed, feeling weak and dreadfully sick. My throat felt painfully sore, but I noticed I hadn't shed a tear. This confusion made me cry harder, and still nothing came as expected.

"You did nothing wrong, child," Master Aro smoothly replied behind me. "I turned you into a vampire because I chose to. The choice was either to change your species or have you killed." That news didn't make me feel any better. "Do you remember the humans we destroyed in the wood?" I grudgingly nodded. It was all so quick, I thought at first they were ninjas. "When we kill, our law prohibits any human witnesses. I am sorry, but there's no going back now." This was all too much for me, and yet so opportune. I had no family that wanted me, no caretaker of any kind once the lot was thoroughly dismembered. Therefore, I could easily have died there without detection or worry—a silent, lonely death. Renata gently touched me on the shoulder and held out the bottle of blood. Before I could even think about what to make of this, my hand shot out, grasped the bottle by the neck, and held it firmly to my lips while I drank it down. It tasted as good as it smelled, just like a Shirley Temple's cherry syrup with a hint of cinnamon and mint. So sweet, so delicious, so…_addicting_. I had to have more; nothing else mattered. The pain in my throat quickly disappeared when I quenched it, but returned with an awful aftershock once I couldn't appease it anymore. Renata took her bottle back and retreated back to the other two. I turned around to follow her until she stepped out of my reach. She seemed to understand exactly how I felt. They all did.

**Renata's POV**

"Today we are going to teach you how to control the thirst so that you will not act rashly upon immediate satisfaction," Aro said to the newborn. He looked broken, confused, and scared without a clue as to what was going to happen to him. I wanted to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he was safe here, but that was against protocol. Newborns were dangerous. The first few months define a vampire's peak of strength and power where it is at its most ruthless and bloodthirsty. Most couldn't stand being chained so their first move is to rip it right out of the wall…but this one was different, as if he was _used _to it. He didn't play with it or tug at it; he just took one good look at it and let it be. Strange. "You will back up against the wall and attempt to stand in place while I approach you with a glass of blood. If you drop your composure at any time, we shall start over. Do you understand?" The boy nodded and a stiff pause followed. "Patches, from now on, I expect you to answer me fully. It's polite courtesy to answer."

"Y-Yes," he choked out in a voice barely above a whisper. His throat was strangling him now, and I could tell he was fighting it with all of his might. There was another pregnant pause.

"Yes, _what?_" I pitied the boy. Social etiquette was probably the last thing in his mind.

"Y-Yes, M-Master Aro."

"Good. Let us begin." Patches stood up and leaned against the wall. Jane briefly left the room and returned with another flask of blood, pouring some of it into a tall glass and handed it to Aro. I caught the sadistic smirk on her face; she knew what was coming next and anticipated the moment. I honestly could not comprehend what sort of twisted pleasure she got out of torturing others, especially those so ignorant and helpless. The blood caught the newborn's attention immediately, though he knew he couldn't have it until Aro let him. Aro slowly began to walk toward him, his calculating eyes already predicting when he was going to crack. He made sure the liquid was moving enough to keep his focus but not so much so that it wouldn't spill. When he was almost five feet away, he took an unexpected step to the side and flashed a warning look at Patches, whose head was barely inclined towards him. The boy shook like a leaf in the autumn wind, straining not to pounce for the glass. He pressed himself harder into the wall with such a force that the stones began to give way. Aro grinned, taking one more step to move the blood another two feet closer. The tantalizing smell reached an unbearable level, and he finally cracked, lunging for the glass in desperation. Aro swiftly pulled it out of reach and let Jane take it from there.

It was a pitiful sight, watching this child try his best only to suffer because it wasn't good enough. He was so close, closer than any newborn on the first try. He writhed on the floor, clutching his head in his hands and screaming like a severely wounded coyote. Aro let it go on for another few seconds before waving Jane's power away. When Patches came to, he took one look of abject terror at Aro and quickly crawled back to the wall, looking like he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. That made two of us. To make matters worse, Aro passed the glass to Jane who raised it to her lips and drained the blood right in front of him. She opened the larger flask again to replenish the smaller container with a fresher scent. But when the blood tipped into the glass, it vanished. Soon, both were empty and all three of us passed confused glances, never seeing anything like this before. A light smacking sound from the wall turned our heads. Patches was happily licking the blood off his lips until he caught us staring. Jane was about to give him another dosage of her pain for cheating out of his training when Aro cut her off. He was impressed.

"It seems you have an extraordinary talent after all. Have you any idea what you just did?" Patches shook his head, the chain clinking with his movements.

"No, Master Aro."

"I wonder," Aro began, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I'd like you to meet a dear friend of mine who should be able to tell us a little about you and your special ability. Our session is concluded for the day." He turned to me halfway, catching my gaze out of the corner of his eye. "Renata, do send a letter to Eleazar of the Denali coven, won't you? Invite him here and include his ticket and itinerary as well."

**Author's Note: Hello, my lovely readers! I hope you are enjoying this story so far as much as I enjoy writing it! Reviews are love and inspiration, and I'm interested about what you think. If you could give me a few seconds of your time to jot down some thoughts, it would be much appreciated. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you next chapter!**

**-CityCat**


	3. Diamond in the Rough

**Narrator's POV**

Eleazar arrived promptly in two days' time, during which much discussion circulated around the newborn that remained shackled in the dungeon. No one came to visit Patches unless they were under specific orders to deliver him provisions that he continued to take from a bottle. For two days, he spent his time thinking; he thought about how life was going to be for him now, about whether he could make any friends, and most of all, about Aro. He quickly picked up the societal roles in this remarkable place, and the man who rescued him seemed to rule it all like a kingdom. The other two men, he reasoned, ruled with him as the top advisors or a three-part dynasty. The others in the cloaks—black and grey and every shade in between—must therefore be the honorary members of the court, and he was going to be one of them! The immense castle itself looked way too fancy for what he was accustomed to, like one of those model houses people would pay good money for to take a tour…which they did. Light swept into the room as the door opened, revealing an unfamiliar face. Eleazar slid inside and turned on the light overhead, a small grin appearing at the astonished pair of eyes staring curiously at him from across the room.

"Hello Patches," he said softly, evoking from Renata's letter that this one could use a few kind words and patient company.

"H'lo," the newborn responded in a small voice, lifting his head and pulling himself into a sitting position. Eleazar smiled and took that as a cue to join him alongside the wall.

"My name is Eleazar, and I've been looking forward to meet you since Aro sent out the invitation." Patches slowly nodded, remembering that this was Aro's "dear friend" that was an expert on supernatural abilities, or something around those lines. "I can identify a vampire's powers just by being near them, and I sense something impressive in you." Close up, Eleazar saw the thin scars on the boy's face that hardened over with his recent turning. His messy auburn hair with matching eyes gave him an unusual animalistic aura that was emphasized with his personalized neckpiece.

"W-What is it?"

"I'm receiving signs that all point to a science-centric ability to change the state of matter of any element by manipulating its pressure and temperature." Patches raised a questionable eyebrow. "It's _very _powerful, very useful, especially in survival. Special powers like these always have some significance or back-story behind them, which is why they are unique to every vampire. Do you have a guess what yours might be?"

In fact, he knew exactly where that stemmed from, a vivid picture of his birthplace surfacing in his memories. "I was born to a family of surgical doctors in Transylvania," he said with a look of remorseful nostalgia. "Everyone had an outstanding degree in biology and chemistry." That was all he could say at the moment, for the rest of the story was far from pleasant. No one needed to know about the running scar up his left cheek that evidently resulted from a sewing needle, its maker none other than the one who disowned him as his son five long years ago.

**Aro's POV**

Eleazar visited the boy far longer than I expected. Over an hour passed before he came into my study with his evaluation. "How is he, Eleazar? Hopefully someone promising?" He wasn't smiling or showing any detectable emotion as I gestured for him to sit down. At last, he leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh.

"Aro, knowing you, I can tell you are not a man who takes risks on a whim." My greeting smile vanished, my ears holding onto every word. "You took a shot in the dark with that boy, already turning him and molding him into one of your guards." I folded my hands neatly on the edge of my desk, waiting for him to get to the point. "And I must say...," another sigh was exhaled. "…you found exactly what you wanted—the best." He paused, though I had no idea what to make of that generalized statement.

"Please go on; don't leave it there." Eleazar narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what I wanted to hear.

"He's a natural elemental manipulator, able to control the pressure or temperature exerted on any substance on Earth." Being a liberal arts patron myself, I had a very vague idea of that particular power. It didn't sound like anything I'd be able to properly utilize in combat.

"Forgive me if I misheard you, but I distinctly recall you promising me that I have the best." My friend looked pointedly at me as if my eyes turned gold or something crazy and shook his head.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Aro. You most certainly have the paramount quintessence of what anyone would like in a guard. Patches is of a gentle nature who aims to please. He's obedient beyond compare and already has the strongest of loyalties towards you! Tell me if any of that is not to your liking." Well, he had me there. Not even I have seen such discipline in anyone.

"I cannot object to that, Eleazar, but you must remember that a pure heart does not win battles."

"True, my old friend, but it _does_ win wars."

"Then I suppose there's just one question left unanswered."

"What might that be?" Eleazar inquired. I passively glanced to the side, mulling over my options.

"Where do I put him?"

**Patches' POV**

It seemed like ages had passed when I saw Master Aro again. He carried a black shopping bag in his hand and held it out to me. "This may be a bit late for welcoming gifts, dear one, but I have a present for you." I gingerly took the bag and peered inside. I took out a long garment of clothing the color of old ashes, the ancient shade of grey I've seen with numerous pairs of red eyes. "For you to wear," he explained. "It defines you as one of the coven. Draw up the hood should you ever roam outside during daylight hours." A small black box tied with a red ribbon sat at the bottom. Inside was a familiar-looking bronze chain necklace with a large bejeweled "V". I pinched the light bronze and held it up to the piece Master Aro wore around his own neck. It was exactly the same in every aspect. He smiled, seeing my realization. "This is your own personal Volturi crest, Patches. Not only does it serve the purpose of identifying you as one of us, but it is your admission ticket to go anywhere you'd like in the castle. I prefer that you wear it at all times." He took it from my hand and draped it over my head; the two metals clinked together as he let it drop around my neck.

"Thank you," I smiled, lifting up the "V" centerpiece to my face. Master Aro took the grey overcoat and switched it with the darker, plainer one I was wearing.

"There, that's better. Much more becoming on you." He reached inside his own robes and pulled out a small key he held with two fingers. "You don't require this anymore." He moved behind me and unlocked the chain that attached me to the wall. It dropped with a _clank _and he kicked it back to its other end. He then exited the room for a brief moment and returned with a water goblet filled with blood. I automatically began backing toward the wall like I did twice a day for the past few days when his voice stopped me. "From where you are, I'd like to see another demonstration of your power. This will help me understand how to improve upon where you're at."

My eyes closed as I tried to find the same sheer sixth sense feeling that was there the first time I did it. I hung onto that memory in my mind but no such sense recreated itself. Then I looked at the blood, concentrating hard to move it, change it, do something to it that would please its holder. Still, not so much as half an ounce left the goblet. I wasn't shaking from thirst this time around; maybe that was why my power refused to come. I hopelessly glanced at Master Aro who let out a soft sigh of disappointment. "It will come with time," he assured me.

He let me have the blood, which I gratefully drank. It was still warm and I felt it nearly pulse as it ran down my throat. He took my hand and led me out of the room. For the first time, I saw the castle with vampire eyes. Every splendorous detail was magnified times ten; I could see the faint brush marks of an oil painting a hundred feet away. We walked down a long corridor and up a flight of stairs, the same ones I recognized as the ones that led to my new room. Indeed, that was where we were going. However, when he opened the door, another teen boy was sitting on my bed.

Another vampire boy, which made me feel a little better considering most of the people here were young adults. He had dirty blonde hair a little longer than mine, a heart-shaped face and light brown eyebrows. When he stood up, my line of sight climbed two inches taller to meet his. He curtly nodded to Master Aro and then at me. "Patches, this is Ethan. He has graciously volunteered to teach you all you must know about your new life here since I am much too preoccupied for the honor." Ethan held out his right hand sideways like business men do. I did the same and we shook hands. "I'll be expecting regular reports," Master Aro said to Ethan.

He smiled in response. "Of course, sir." Master Aro glanced between us and left me there with the other vampire, but at least I was in my own room. "He likes you, you know," he said to me. I simply nodded, not quite knowing what that entailed. "I watched your turning. He spared you the initial pain." I threw him a blank look, still lost. Then he did something I would have never seen coming: he stood right in front of me and hugged me, bringing me close to his chest. "You poor newborn child! You have no idea what happened to you, do you?"

I broke away from his contact and ran to the other side of the room, trying my best to make sense of what was going on. Let's see: I was rescued, turned into a real blood-drinking vampire, discovered something about me that no other vampire could do, talked to some strange man from North America, and met another vampire who happens to be very friendly. I gave the negation in case I missed something. "You're not just with any group of vampires. No, you are in the most powerful coven in the world. Almost every single vampire you see in this castle has a special gift, just like you."

"You mean there are many others around the world?"

"Thousands."

"And out of all of them, we're the only ones with special powers?"

"Ah, _some _do, but most don't. We, however, have the best of the best." This new information was overwhelming. I sat down on one corner of my bed and Ethan inhabited the other corner, even going so far as to occupy a whole half! At this moment, I caught the color of his cloak—a grey like mine, but perhaps a shade darker.

"Do I get to see your power?" I asked him in a small voice. He shrugged.

"Sure, but I'll have to see yours first." I pouted, seeing he knew I didn't have the know-how to summon it at will yet. He simply smiled and held out his hand for me to grasp. "Come on, we'll go to the sparring room and see how much of a fighter you are." The look in his eyes was friendly, but closed for debate. Reluctantly, I took his hand and followed him out the door. I couldn't stop the groan from escaping my throat. I was set up for failure; the fight was beaten out of me long ago, and I was absolutely certain it would never come back. I'd be a disappointment, something I could not face again.


	4. A New Beginning

**Ethan's POV**

When Aro gave me the assignment of teaching the newborn, I hadn't a clue what to expect. Normally this task would go to one of the Upper Guard or anyone who has been here for a very long time and is more experienced with everything that goes on. I guess you could say that two thousand years qualifies for being "old", but I wouldn't trust any other vampire aged nineteen years to get the job done right. From the top of the hierarchical pyramid, the fighters would typically go to Felix, the scouts and watch with Alec, the messengers and errand-runners with Demetri, and the domestics with me. Patches, Aro judged, would be best suited to become a caretaker of the castle, and it was my duty to see that he did.

In the sparring room, I started him out with the basics: kicking, punching, and blocking. He didn't seem like the martial arts or wrestling type, which would be too advanced for him anyway. I stood off to the sidelines in front of the stone steps that served as bleachers, evaluating his stance and power with a critical eye. From the shy way he held his arms at his sides and the nervous look on his face, both areas were nonexistent. "It's just a standard mannequin; punch it!" I asserted. He shot me this worried glance and turned back to the dummy, taking another moment to wrap his mind around the idea.

"I-I can't," he whispered back, hanging his head. Something told me he was dealing with more of an emotional boundary than a physical one.

I strode over to him to ask him what was wrong, but instead I asked, "What are you doing?" As I progressed towards him, he regressed away from me.

"I-I don't want you to hurt m-me," he stuttered, crossing his arms protectively over his face.

"And why would I ever do that?" I inquired calmly. His answer was automatic.

"B-Because I didn't do wh-what you asked me to."

_FLASHBACK…_

_ The shrill sound of pierced cries vibrated the strong walls of an underground fortress in the middle of scenic nowhere. There was more shouting from the men upstairs, proceeded by more glass-shattering screams. "Why didn't I stop her from running away?" Patches moaned to himself with his face in his hands. If he just intervened, then that poor girl wouldn't be getting her ankles blade-marked for trying to escape. The men here were brutal, their leader—rightfully named "Bruno"—was the most sadistic-minded being on earth. He meant business, of course, but only with dirty money: a child-smuggling ring where children were stolen away to be sold off to whoever had the money. Of all of the minors that passed through this Hell, Patches was the undesirable, the white elephant who could never be sold. Bruno saw to this and appointed him the caretaker of his prisoners as well as his personal lapdog, for any major deformity was a sign of the lesser human beings in his eyes. He melded a silver collar around the boy's neck and claimed him as his property to do with as he liked, shaping him into a well-disciplined puppy-child with no self-respect to his animalistic name. _

_ Patches shook the blame from his mind and crawled miserably to the cellar where the children of today's catch would most likely require his medical attention. He opened the door just a crack when a chilling hissing noise answered to his arrival. There in the dim light slithered a medium sized yellow forest snake, flicking its forked tongue in his direction. The captivated children were paralyzed with fear, having nothing to defend themselves with. He joined them as a tall shadow loomed overhead. "You know what to do," Bruno stated in his cold, grave voice. "Kill it." Patches heard him, but couldn't move any closer to it. Snakes were his worst phobia. "Kill it!" Bruno ordered again, this time more aggressively. _

_ The boy's face fell; he hated when Bruno did this to him—commanding him to push himself to the brink of insanity to test him, or for a few laughs. He looked at the snake's scaly form again and his body began to tremble, already accepting his fate. "I-I-I c-can't." _

"_Alright, let's go," the man whispered with a forced calmness. He seized the boy's collar and dragged him down the cemented halls to the punishment room, ignoring his whimpers of terrified protest. The room was usually kept pitch black save for a couple of candles near the front. Various instruments of torture and restraint were decked on the right wall, and Patches had come in acquaintance with nearly every one. Bruno pulled his wrists toward the metal post on the far left corner, locking him in the tight shackles purposely modified for children. "Hmm, what to do with you today…" he mused. "Disobedience, talking back—this is your third offense, I believe." Patches swallowed what little saliva was in his mouth, already calculating how much he was going to suffer. He averted his eyes to the wall, afraid of what was in store. His breaths ran heavy, his shoulders tensing as the smooth, teasing tail of a bullwhip was draped lightly over his back. _

"_First, the disobedience." With one hand, his whip coiled loosely in the other, he pulled the boy's shirt up over his head, down his arms, and over the metal post. The crisscross slashes and scars from previous punishments prickled his skin as the cool air hit it, the scabbed splotches begging him to let them heal. In a flash, a streak of red made its mark with a smarting sting. Patches clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing for death or a magical blue fairy to take him away. One by one, the scabs reopened, leaking their bodily juices on the flecked stone floor. It wasn't long before he lost his strength and gave in; he always gave in. He let out a long howl of agony as the tears began to well up in his large eyes and fall to join the small pools of blood. It took everything he had to remain on his feet, for falling unconscious was "cheating" and resulted in a longer, more excruciating session right afterwards. When Bruno deemed he had enough, he remained shaking uncontrollably, his head bent over his hands in resigned misery. _

"_Now, to take care of your backtalk." Bruno grabbed a fistful of his hair and wretched his mouth open, lodging a ball gag a little over an inch in diameter behind his teeth and over his tongue. The thin leather straps were pulled tightly behind his head, locking in place with a small click of a lock. The stitches stretching the left side of his lips throbbed terribly, for his mouth could only open so wide. "I think twenty minutes is reasonable enough," said the man, looking the helpless boy over with satisfaction. He walked out the door, taking care to blow out the candles and leave him in total darkness. One of his thug minions whispered something to him as he was about to close the door. "Oh, and one more thing," he smirked, eying the boy's wide eyes. He threw the thick, yellow snake inside the dungeon, alive and enraged as it flew to the left corner, laughing cruelly at the boy's beyond petrified face as he shut out the light. _

_END FLASHBACK…_

**Ethan's POV**

"Patches, I'm not going to do any such thing." He still looked doubtful. "Really, it's okay. We can return to this later." He lowered his hands, which I hoped was definite progress.

"O-Okay, Ethan." I tried to guess what his life was like before his turning though I didn't ask. He was completely pale as pale gets, even by vampire standards. If it wasn't for his reddish hair, he could've easily passed for albino. He didn't look like he spent one good day in the sun, wherever he lived.

"Would you like to see the garden?" His eyes lit up. "It's not much, but it makes for a lovely peaceful spot."

"I'd like that." Smiling, I took his hand and was pleased to feel his palm willingly pressing against mine. Still, the way he trailed behind me instead of next to me raised the question of whether or not he trusted me to take care of him. I showed him the back door leading into the garden and released his hand so he could explore. The tall walls surrounding the castle made it impossible for humans to see into except for above. It wasn't likely that a plane would venture over Volterra so I could care less about shielding ourselves from the sun. He face relaxed in wonder as his gaze roamed through the blossoming trees, the plethora of flowers bursting from every patch of soil, the shrubberies, and the cobblestone pathways leading to the marble bench under a shady spot.

"What do you think, eh?"

"It's _beautiful_!" he exclaimed with an awed smile. He reached down to touch a Bird of Paradise flower and looked up. "C-Can I?"

"Of course. It's yours now too, isn't it?" He grinned and petted the petals with a finger. He reminded me of a small child stroking a tiny kitty cat. Which reminds me… "Patches, do you remember what I said about me showing you my power?" he looked at me over his shoulder and nodded.

"Yeah. After I showed you mine, right?" I shrugged with indifference.

"I was hoping I could show you now, if that's fine with you." He rose with anticipation.

"Sure!" We walked to the marble bench and I sat him down.

"Promise me you won't freak okay?" I said with a guarded half smile.

"I promise," he said softly, resting his hands in his lap. I stepped back and took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I felt myself melt and shrink, morph and change into my being of choice: a fluffy white kitty cat.

"Mrroow?" I called out to him, peeking my furry head from under my clothes. His jaw dropped in astonishment, amazed beyond words.

"E-Ethan? H-How did you—is that really you?"

"Mmm-Mrroooow!" I replied in the affirmative, swishing my tail proudly. I walked out of my shirt and jumped on the bench beside him, smiling through my blue-grey eyes. He slid to his corner and turned away as if he was afraid of being too close. I expected him to pet me, but that was obviously not going to happen. Perhaps showing him my power this early was a bit abrupt? I leapt off and set myself in my clothes before changing back so that he wouldn't be uncomfortable. "Are you alright, Patches? I know my power can sometimes be a bit overwhelming to others." He said nothing, his eyes still looking into the distance. "Being a shape shifter has some great benefits to it though, mostly for disguise and undercover work. I personally like to entertain with it; I even managed to transform into a full chimera once." Still, neither a word nor a glance came from his direction. I touched his arm. "Patches?"

He finally locked eyes with me, his voice filled with wonder. "How did you know that I love cats?"

**A Special Note from CityCat: Thank you to all my reviewers who have stayed true to this story thus far! I call this the boiling point chapter because it's going to get hot with action from here on in. A special mention goes out to my friend Nelly, who originally created Ethan. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Adaption

**Patches' POV**

I soon grew to like Ethan. He was very informative and I learned something new from him every hour of every day. He taught me how to walk straight up with pride, how to operate electrical boxes that control the lights and the temperature of the whole castle, how to alphabetize things, such as books in the library, but most importantly, patience and mannerisms. "Have you heard of the medieval stories of Camelot?" He asked me as we sat on my bed.

"No." He reclined against the headboard.

"I didn't think so. They're ancient." Then he proceeded to share with me some of the old stories of magicians and knights and kings and jesters, all of it fascinating. "I want you to think of yourself as a knight of the Round Table, the best of the best. The only ones above us are the Masters and the Upper Guard. Everyone and everything else in the world is at our disposal, if you can believe it."

"What about humans?" I inquired curiously. "We hide from them; they rule the world." He stood up and walked in a semi-circle in front of me, his serious eyes staring into mine.

"No. They like to _think _they are on top, but by the natural laws of nature, we exceed them in the food chain, making us superior in every way. We choose to be invisible so that we can survive off of them. If any single human alerts the whole human race of our existence, it will be much more difficult to feed, there will be senseless, wasteful killing, and we'd have to dominate the entire planet by force to prevent attack. With a few trillion of them and only mere thousands of us, such a feat is unheard of. They also have advanced weapons: missiles, bombs, things not even a vampire's skin could block." I slouched heavily as if yet another burden was added to the invisible backpack I carried with me. "There is also another scenario Aro brought up once, but I don't think you'd like to hear it."

_Then why would you bring it up? _"You can tell me. I'm sure I can handle it." He sat next to me again, but as always, never too close. I liked that he minded my space and let me come to him instead of coming onto me. I tried many a time to guess what he was thinking, but his eyes were so unexpressive and blank, just like most of the Guard.

"Forced labor," he said, so quiet yet firm. "It's only natural for humans to dictate all species they find useful. Heck, they even mistreat their own kind like you wouldn't believe." _Try me. _"Aro could visualize it all: a species of immense strength that never rests, never sleeps doing pathetic human work on a diet of death-row criminals."

"It sounds awful," was all I could say to keep a straight face. I envisioned myself as a horse with a human rider on my back; I had the potential to maim, kill, and run away with such strength and speed, and yet I couldn't. The smaller being would have all the power, and I'd have no choice but to conform.

"No kidding," he replied, his face solemn. "But that's the world outside." I cast my eyes to the floor.

"I know." A silence followed until Ethan spoke again, his voice more engaging.

"Shall I go over the rules with you now? They're very simple to remember." I nodded, making sure I was paying absolute attention. I wouldn't want to do anything that would upset him or Master Aro. "Alright. Rule number one: always be respectful and polite to your fellow coven members. Number two: never squander time but use it wisely and productively. Number three: faithfully complete all tasks assigned to you by the Masters without hesitation. Number four: never start a pointless fight." He stopped to take a voluntary breath. That list seemed considerably short, all of them common sense. "Now these apply to you and other castle domestics: do not loiter around rooms or eavesdrop on conversations not directed towards you, do not get in anyone else's way or business, do not speak to your superiors unless you are spoken to, and above all, _you will not leave the castle grounds without the Masters' consent_." I didn't like the sound of that last part; the feeling of being trapped was no friend of mine. Though from what Ethan said of the outside world and its cruelties, perhaps I was better off safe inside the castle walls. The very place was immense; it would take me years to explore every square inch of it, not to mention that I'd have plenty to do.

"Okay, I got it." Ethan smiled in approval.

"Good. Would you like to come with me to the feeding room? You must learn how to satisfy your thirst on your own." I shrugged with indifference.

"I'm not really that thirsty. I topped off yesterday." Ethan stood up anyway and reached for my hand.

"Then in that case, you can watch me. Take mental notes as you'll see what it's like."

**Ethan's POV**

He didn't look like he was too keen on witnessing several murders at once, but since it's entirely necessary for survival, I had to break him of the initial shock. I took him by the wrist and led him down the long corridor to the heart of the castle—the throne room. I opened one of the double doors and glanced around at the roomful of vampires lining the walls with anticipating faces. I picked out a nice corner spot that would keep him safe from the action and bloodshed yet would be ideal for viewing what was going on. "Heidi and her catch of the day will arrive soon," I informed him in a light whisper. "Here is how you are going to do it: you stand perfectly still where you're at until the group is inside and the doors are locked shut. Then it's simply a matter of waiting your turn. Do you see the ones with the dark grey, almost ebony outfits?" His eyes scattered around the room and he gave a brief nod. "Those are the Upper Guard and they get the first pick of every catch."

"Why?" he asked with a hint of a frown.

"Because they deserve it; they do the most work on the outside." That seemed to satisfy him, so I continued. "Then once they have claimed their share, the ones in the lighter grey—including you and I—feed next. To claim a body, all you have to do is knock it down and get yourself on top of it. Then you may kill it however you want, just as long as you kill it indefinitely so that it will not become one of us." Patches turned his head to the door and in a moment, I knew why: the clicking sound of high heels grew louder and louder as it approached the room, followed by other shoes clacking about in their own rhythm. Heidi and the humans entered at last, hardly noticing the hungry eyes that followed them. She gave her little spiel on "Fourteenth century this" and "Historical artifact that" before the double boom of the doors locked them in, signaling the beginning of the feast. I tightened my grip on Patches' wrist so that he wouldn't be able to shy away as most first-timers do. I kept my eyes trained on his face to be sure he was paying attention as the Upper Guard took their humans. His mouth twisted in a grimace, evidently finding this sickening. I smiles confidently and whispered in his ear. "Let me show you how I like to do it." Once light grey cloaks appeared on the scene, my body morphed into a full size tiger and bolted for a human man pounding helplessly on the doors. I took his neck in my mouth and bit hard until his head was rolling. Then I changed back to my vampire self to drink from the spurting, stringy neck veins oozing heavily with the liquid of life. Patches looked like he was about to vomit up blood clots.

"That's so…disgusting!" he wailed when I returned to him.

"You won't find it disgusting when you get thirsty enough."

"I-I could never take a human life!"

"Never say never." The rest of the Guard began to disperse, leaving their bodies in a crumpled heap in the center of the room above a giant grate that led to the lower level where the sewers were. Patches wanted to leave as well, crossing toward the exit. "Where are you going?" He stopped and turned his head.

"Back to my room. I can't look at this." I sighed and ran ahead to block his path.

"Patches, you must ask permission to leave in the company of someone with higher status. As your mentor, that someone is me." He furrowed his brow.

"Okay, can I—"

"No, you may not. Not yet. After every feeding period, you are responsible for cleaning up afterwards. You may start with this." I dug in my pocket and handed him a simple butane lighter.

"Wh-What is it?"

"Click the top back with your thumb and a flame will appear. You must set the human bodies on fire before a rotten smell arises." He held it away from him and flicked the flame alive. Gingerly, he moved to the pile and tilted the lighter on its side where the fire immediately caught on. The bodies quickly turned to ash and the remains crumpled through the grate and out of sight. He jumped back as the light grew and held the lighter for me to take. "You keep it; it's yours." He took another look at it and stuck it inside one of his cloak pockets. "Look at the floor," I said, gesturing to the staining streaks of a violent scene on the tile. He did, his face back to a revolted grimace. "Your next task is to clean it. You will find the supplies you need in the closet off the right exit." I pointed to the right set of double doors, and to my satisfaction, he didn't move. "You may leave to get them, Patches." He was a fast learner; Aro liked that in his guards.

I waited until he came back with a white rag drenched with water. "Blood will stain on white," I reminded him.

"I can wash it," he answered, kneeling down in front of the largest red streak and setting to work.

**Patches' POV**

Ethan said he was going to make a report on my progress when he left me to finish the floor. I stayed clear of the middle until all the dead bodies went through the holes to the disposal-type area. I'm going to like it here, I've decided. The work was easy, I had plenty of room to move about, and I had Ethan, my first friend here besides Master Aro. For the first time in a long while, I actually felt productive doing something I enjoy: making people I like happy with me. Before long, a new set of footsteps sounded toward my location. Standing near the left entrance was a vampire I didn't recognize. He had light brown hair, a medium build, and wore a silken scarf tucked neatly in the collar of his black overcoat. This was one of the Upper Guard Ethan told me about. I sat back at attention, looking up at him. "No need to stop on my account," he said with a light chuckle. I cautiously leaned over the blood mark again and flicked the reddened rag up and down the stripe, rubbing it out without taking my eyes off my company. He snorted with an amused smile. "I am Demetri, and you are Patches, yes?" I nodded, still wondering why he was here. "Aro requested that I may check on you in Ethan's absence. How do you feel?"

"F-Fine. Just fine," I answered, averting my eyes back to my cleaning. I could feel his eyes brush the side of my face, the horribly scarred side.

"Nice try, but it's quite obvious to distinguish when you are lying." He was right of course; I've always been a horrible liar.

"S-Scared, then." Demetri walked a few paces closer.

"Why? Of what?" I looked at the lines of ashes sitting on the grate that hadn't fallen through yet. The screams and sight of the hideous murder scene flashed through my thoughts.

"O-Of the m-monster I've b-become." Demetri silently strode up to me and helped me stand. His fingers brushed back my hair, causing my head to follow so that I was looking directly into his deep ember-red eyes.

"You have an interesting mind," he told me, his voice as gentle as his touch. "All vampires are monsters, but perhaps you'll feel privileged to know that some humans would give their two best limbs for our venom." It didn't make me feel any better, but I knew there was truth in his words.

"But I don't want to kill anyone. Murder is against the Ten Commandments." He lifted an eyebrow.

"A vampire that refuses to take a victim's blood is an uncontrollable one and ultimately a dead one, newborn. You'll have to do without these "commandments" of which you speak." I shook my head and turned away from him. I couldn't do without my faith; it's the only chance I had left to try for Heaven when I die…_if _I die. Vampires are immortal, after all. "You won't kill for killing's sake, but for survival. You are taking life to sustain your existence—isn't that what you want?" I shrugged.

"I-I don't want to d-die."

"Then it's decided. You will feed from humans." I glanced back up at him. There was no tolerance for debate in his face. I idly wondered if he went through the same emotions himself when he was turned. If so, he never showed it. Everyone in the castle carried a distinguished elegance to the way they talked, acting much over their appeared age. It was as if they all had a certain standard, one so high that I couldn't hope to meet it.

"Yes," I murmured desolately, eying the ashes again with bitter distaste. "If I have to."


	6. Something in the Air

**A note from CityCat: I dedicate this chapter to Caliwali6 (Cali) whose ideas and pure awesomeness have inspired me to write this one. I also give my thanks to Kara, who offered to be my beta-reader from this chapter on. Much thanks to all who reviewed; your wonderful comments always make me smile!**

* * *

**Narrator's POV**

Twenty years past, Patches grew up—not physically, of course, but mentally with knowledge and experience. Ethan taught him everything he knew and got promoted from being his mentor to his best friend. The two of them drank together, walked together, and even did their chores together when they could help it. Patches had a knack for fixing electrical appliances, and dusting baseboards was twice as easy and fun for Ethan as a guinea pig. Through his work, Aro could see what a loyal guard he was and presented him with occasional gifts, mainly accessories for his room or new clothes for different occasions. Still, his rank never increased above a domestic of the Lower Guard. He couldn't fight offence—no matter how hard he pushed himself to try—and the nightmarish memories of his human past never left. The scars, both physical and mental, would not fade away.

Today, he was on mail delivery among other things. Most of the letters and packages were addressed to the leaders, but some leisurely magazines and books were ordered from the Guard. To humans, mail was for Christmas time and pen pals. To vampires who couldn't leave shelter to walk in the sunlight, mail was their only window to the outside world beyond their small city. Patches bundled up the letters in order and headed straight to the top where his masters would be in their separate studies. He stopped at Aro's room first, rapping quietly on the door. "Come in," came Aro's voice in a soft sigh. Patches entered with a smile; he always felt comfortable around the man who gave him this extraordinary life. Aro glanced up from a document he was analyzing and returned sentiments. "My, my, Patches. Is it mail day already?"

"Yes, sir." The boy counted off the letters and handed the stack to Aro who set them neatly on the corner of his desk.

"Thank you. By the by, how are you, dear one?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I've been busy."

"I'm very glad to hear it," Aro smiled warmly. "In that case, I shall not squander your time any longer. I'm sure the others are keen on their deliveries." It sounded like one of his fancy farewells, so Patches bid him goodbye with a swift bow and headed to Marcus's study next. He found him organizing his books on his private bookshelf and knocked twice on the open door.

"Mail delivery, sir," he announced with Marcus's letters at the end of his outstretched arm. Marcus turned around and gingerly took his parcels, laying them flat on his desk.

"Thank you, Patches," he said in an emotionless monotone. "Goodbye." The boy bowed his head and left, not surprised to be dismissed so quickly. Marcus, it seemed, was in his own little world most of the time and didn't have much to say or emotions to share. Patches didn't mind, only now there was nothing to distract him from visiting Caius. The belligerent blonde never forgave him for sitting on his throne on his first day and disliked him more than everyone else in the castle since.

"M-Master Caius?" Patches stammered between shaky knocks. To his surprise and dismay, it was Jane who answered the door.

"Caius isn't here," she snapped, her eyes a little aggravated to see him.

"Oh! Uhm, I-I have his mail," he said, pulling out a thicker wad of envelopes. Would you—" Before he could finish, Jane snatched them from his hand and slammed the door. "Right," he murmured to himself, taking one last look at the door before departing to find the rest of the Guard.

**Patches' POV**

It wasn't until I returned to my room when I knew something felt a little different in the castle. A certain smell wafted through a few corridors and I wondered if a human got lost from one of the tours and was floating aimlessly around somewhere. I asked Ethan about it as he selected a song from my growing record collection and set it on the phonograph. "Nah, she's nothing. Don't worry about her."

"Worry about who?" He laughed a little as if I was the last to know.

"Caius's little human female he brought back from an extensive mission a few hours ago. I don't know all of the details, but she definitely shows signs of a promising power he's interested in."

"W-Will she be turned? Into o-one of us?"

"Most likely, but Aro and Marcus will have to okay it. Until then, I think they're keeping her in the dungeon." He turned up the volume and a jazzy 70s beat known as "Disco Inferno" of the western culture filled the room. I sat on my bed, my head cleared of all errant thoughts as my arms and shoulders danced to the ironic refrain.

"Burn, baby, burn," I sang with the chorus.

"Dis-co in-FER-no!" Ethan joined in his louder, huskier voice.

"Burn, baby, burn!"

"Burn that mother down!" We laughed in spirit of the moment. Ethan's hands grasped mine and pulled me back up. He wanted me to dance with him. He had his arms out, bent at the elbow, and twisted himself down on one leg and back up in what I think was a disco dance. On the chorus, he bent one arm near his head and kept the other straight in front of him as if he was holding an invisible bow and arrow. Then he brought his wrists together and alternated motions with a pop. I was impressed! I didn't know many dance moves myself, so I swayed in a continuous two-step and bopped my head to the beat, hoping it was good enough for him. It wasn't until after the song ended that I remembered what I needed to do next. "Again!" Ethan declared, reaching for the replay button. My hand stopped him.

"Not now, I forgot that today's the day I mop the foyer. Others are getting annoyed at all the dirt the humans keep tracking in. You can play whatever you want." I smiled and opened the door to leave when I saw his hand beside mine on the handle.

"Not happening; I'm coming with you. We'll get it done faster between the both of us and then we'll play more music. Okay?" I nodded, thankful to have him.

"Thanks, Ethan." He grinned.

"Don't mention it, Patches." We walked downstairs and got our cleaning supplies from the hall closet before setting to work. Luckily, no one was around to interrupt us. Occasionally, a human or two would waltz right in without reading the "Closed" or "Visiting Hours" signs at the front while I was working and I'd have to take them to the dungeon to save for later. 'One good look' Master Aro says, 'and it's an immediate liability.' I thought of the human girl Ethan mentioned earlier and wondered if she saw too much and found out our existence before Master Caius saw her potential power, whatever it may be. Perhaps I could pay her a visit and ask her myself…but that was a silly idea. Humans were cruel and selfish, especially when they're desperate for something. Not too many simply accept their fate and die quietly.

I filled up a tub of water and splashed a little of it in small puddles on the tile so we could get started. "Ethan? Wh-What was your childhood like?" He was already a few swishes ahead, his mop as bright a yellow as his hair.

"Meh," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Mediocre, I guess. It was good right up until I accidentally turned into a cat in front of my parents, freaking out both them and myself." His smile disappeared, his voice growing deeper with a grave recollection. "When I changed back, I knew I had to run. They thought I was a demon possessing their son, never realizing that it was just me all along. On my way crossing the country, I found this place and was changed here. I never left since, not that I'd have anywhere else to go." I nodded, taking his history into account and locking it in my memory.

"I-I'm sorry," was all I could say. Ethan waved it away.

"Don't be. If it wasn't for them giving me a reason to leave, I would have never met you." I looked down and rolled my head around my shoulders, blushing as much as a vampire could. Neither of us said anything until we got the job done and put away the mops and bucket. I took one last look at the floor and used my power to evaporate all the excess water. It was getting better; now I could manipulate up to two elements at the same time. In this case, it was oxygen and hydrogen. As I took a breath of satisfaction, that human smell lingered again, only not as pungent this time. It was starting to annoy me. "Are you ready for another round of 'Disco Inferno'?" Ethan asked as we reached the stairs.

"A-Actually, Ethan, I-I think I'll just check something out really fast." He raised his eyebrow questioningly. "Y-You can start without me; I'll be _right _there." That seemed to appease him.

"Okay," he said, heading up the stairs. When he was out of sight, I traced the aroma of human blood to the dungeon. There was a vent tunnel I knew of that let me look down into all the rooms in the castle. I climbed up the entrance on the side and crawled through the vent system over the dungeon. Looking down, I saw a slim, lightly tanned girl wearing a baby blue dress that went down to her knees. I could smell her blood much clearly now; I could tell her blood sugar was dangerously low from the way it jumped up her veins. She looked frantic for something, but I couldn't tell what.

"My phone! Where's my phone?!" she whispered through clenched teeth. She searched herself, pulling at her clothes. At a closer look, I noticed she had red marks on her palms as if she just touched something really hot. There was a water bottle sitting next to her—at least she had something to drink. It wasn't long before she gave up and began to cry, tiny tear-pools forming in her teal eyes. She took the water bottle and savored small sips to preserve the rest. I knew sixteen ounces wasn't nearly enough, and I couldn't help but make a little electrochemical rain cloud above the bottle to fill its contents back to the top. She gasps with a start and glances around. "Who's there?" My body froze in silence. "Who's there?!" she demanded with a twinge of fear in her otherwise confident voice. "Show yourself!" I slowly backed up and retreated to the vent entrance without a word. "I can kill you!" her voice carried behind me. "I've killed two of your kind before, and I'll do it again!"

I paid no heed to her words. On the contrary, I wanted to help her. By our customs, every human prisoner must be properly nourished so that their blood will remain fresh and healthy for our consumption. I headed to the kitchen where I knew some human foods were stored. Looking through the pantry, I found peanut butter, graham crackers, corn syrup, sugar, and nutmeg spice. An idea came to me to mash the crackers into crumbs add some of the other stuff in with it and make a type of cookie dough to roll into bite-sized balls. _This might taste _good, I assumed. I sprinkled some powdered sugar on it for presentation and stuck them on some wax paper atop a plate. I draped a couple napkins over the plate to hide the food from view before I paced back to the dungeon and slid it over to the girl inside from under the crack in the door. I made sure to write a note on top of it that says: "It's _not_ poison. Enjoy!"

I heard her move inside and pick up the note. "Of course not," she sighed bitterly. "You'd want me to suffer slowly." A moment later, I was in the vent again, curious to see if she liked the peanut butter balls. She was frowning in a corner, slowly chewing the food as if she had no other choice.

"Y-You don't l-like it?" I asked. She looked up, though I knew she still couldn't see me through the paneling.

"No, it's good," she said miserably. "I just want to go home." I nodded, not really able to do anything about her situation.

"What's your name?" I said in a quiet voice. She didn't seem to be all that bad, but I knew humans were also full of surprises.

"I'm Carly. And you?" One moment, she wanted to kill me; the next, she sounded genuinely interested in me. I rest my case. I honestly didn't know how to answer her question. It wasn't my Christian birth name, but "Patches" was the only name I could remember.

"N-No one important." This earned another sigh from the dungeon floor.

"If you're not important, then why can't I know your name?" A good question.

"I'm c-called Patches," I said, a little embarrassed. "I-I live here…a-and maybe you will too," I added with a smile, hoping to cheer her up. Instead, it had the opposite effect. Bright yellow and orange flames shot out of her hands as she pointed a finger in my direction. I felt my eyes grow twice as large. _So this must be her special power!_

"I am _not _living here! I'm going to get out of this place, and then I'm going home!" She screamed in pain and quickly rubbed the fire out of her hands, the red marks now more apparent. She seized the water bottle and doused her palms until there was no way more flames could follow. I could care less about her threat; from the years of observing human hostage behavior—with a little experience myself—such senseless threats are common to slip.

"See you later, Carly," I replied softly, simultaneously filling her bottle up again. I closed the vent tunnel as I climbed out, humming "Burn, baby, burn" all the way back to my room.

* * *

**Another note from CityCat: I hope you loved this chapter as much as I enjoyed composing it! The song referenced in this piece is correctly titled "Disco Inferno" by The Trammps released in 1976. It's incredibly addicting, I tell you! Much thanks to Cali who originally created Carly and gave me the rights to include her. Don't forget to leave a review and have a wonderful day!**


	7. Secrets Untold

**Narrator's POV**

Patches kept an elated leap in his stride all throughout the rest of the day thinking about his new human acquaintance that he dreamed would soon be turned into his new vampire friend. Better yet, he discovered that she could be the ticket to appease Caius since she was where his interest lay. If he could somehow get on Caius's good side, then maybe he'd stop nitpicking on every little mistake he made when the opportunity came about. _That would be nice_, he thought to himself as he turned to another page in his book. On the opposite side of his bed, Ethan was completing a word search book, clicking his pen now and then to circle a word. "Why are the smaller words impossible to find?" Ethan sighed, scanning over every line for the word "glib". Patches left his book and leaned over the word search, pointing to the word printed diagonally backwards. That was the fifth time he found a word for his friend without even trying. "How are you so good at these?" Patches shrugged.

"I don't know. A different perspective?"

"It must be. I must have looked this over three times already!" he chuckled in disbelief.

"Would you like to do something else?" Patches asked, book marking his page and setting it down on his side table.

"Yeah," Ethan nodded in agreement. "I think I want to go down to the park and swim in the lake. It's not every day Volterra has an overcast." Patches lowered his gaze to his comforter.

"Please don't tease me, Ethan. You know I'm not allowed to leave the castle grounds." Aro was very adamant about this. He felt that the boy was unprepared for the world from spending so much time in isolation. He'd certainly stick out among the humans which would raise suspicion and possible exposure, and that was the last thing he wanted. Only in the castle would he be safe, accepted, and content to be so.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to think of a special place we could go to where we could just spend an few hours without any interruptions." Ethan had his arms crossed, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. Patches climbed over the bed and sat next to him.

"B-But we're spending time together right now," he pointed out. "We always talk when we're not busy."

"A couple hours broken up around the day are not enough anymore. I have…something to tell you."

"Wh-What is it, Ethan?" His friend kept avoiding eye contact.

"I won't say it. Not now." He turned his head to the clouds in the window. "I'm still waiting for the right time." Patches didn't know what to make of his hesitancy. For all the years he has known him, Ethan was always upfront about everything: his power, his past, his wisdom. Why was he holding back now?

"Alright. You can tell me when you're ready." He checked the time on his clock—it was nearing six o'clock in the evening, the time most humans in Volterra, Italy would walk outside with their families and go to a place with music and food. A "restaurant" they called it. He thought of Carly and wondered if anyone bothered to feed her yet. "I have to check on…something."

"Of course you do," Ethan muttered. Patches picked up on his disappointment.

"C-Could we finish this later? I won't be long."

"Sure. I have some stuff I needed to get done anyway." With that, he picked up the word-search and left the room to organize his thoughts.

Patches hopped off his bed and straightened everything up before going down to the kitchen to acquire some provisions for his human acquaintance. Feeding humans was much more difficult than feeding vampires. They were pickier about what they ate, and some foods didn't sit too well with their stomachs. Vampires drank fresh human blood; they didn't discriminate on who and where it came from. He took some milk, a carton of eggs, a tomato, and cheddar cheese out of the refrigerator to make an omelet with milk on the side. It was a fairly simple dish, something he could manage without messing up. A pair of heavy boots thudded in the corridor, and soon Felix—the world's unbeaten, incomparable, best combat fighter that ever existed—emerged in the doorway. He stood at six foot seven, his scarlet eyes glaring down at the boy.

"You," he growled in his deep voice. "You're in trouble." Patches froze, baffled at what he could mean. Felix hardly talked to him unless he had something for him to do. "I found this," he continued, brandishing a small bit of parchment he recognized as the note he gave Carly along with her snack. He struggled to speak, but no words successfully made themselves heard. He noticed her scent still lingered over the paper. A small smile formed on his lips at the thought of her holding his note, perhaps reading it a few more times when he left. Felix responded by charging at him, seizing a fistful of his light gray robe and holding it at his broad, pectoral-defined chest. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!" He knew, but was too scared stiff to answer. "The female belongs to _Caius_, meaning that he and he alone is allowed to interact with her."

"S-She w-was hungry," Patches whimpered, squirming against his grip. "S-She n-needed food."

"That is for _him _to decide," Felix snapped coldly. "He most likely planned to starve her and use hunger to break her stubbornness. Did you ever think of that?" He didn't, though it wasn't above Caius to employ force to get what he wanted. He blamed himself for being curious and shook his head. Felix kneed him right in the gut and dropped him on the kitchen floor, causing Patches to yelp in pain. "Stupid boy," he muttered, and with that, he disappeared into the hallway. The boy groaned weakly in between panting breaths and shakily stood up as the hurt ebbed away. Vampire skin was notorious for healing itself in seconds after a blow. He hastily returned the food and milk to the fridge and took the long way to the library, passing the dungeon along the way. His jaw dropped in surprise when he came the door; it was wide open and Carly was nowhere to be found.

"Looking for something, dear one?" Aro's voice floated to his ears. Patches spun around and curtly bowed to the familiar figure in the black suit.

"I-I'm looking for Carly," he answered, gesturing to the dungeon with his head. "J-Just to see if she's okay." Aro smiled and walked over to him.

"So you're the one that upset my brother. I've spent the last hour calming him down." Patches hung his head.

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to—" Aro held up a hand to cut him off.

"Oh, of course not," he said reassuringly, petting his auburn head in smooth, even strokes. "You were only trying to help." The petting stopped and Patches felt a hand on both forearms. "Though I would strongly suggest doing everything you can to not upset Caius further. I do not want you to touch her, speak to her, or even look her in the eye while she is under his care." It was an order, and one he had to accept. He would never have one chance to get to know her better.

"Yes, Master Aro." Patches dropped his chin to his chest, but Aro picked it back up so that his eyes looked straight up into his own.

"Remember, this is for your own protection." He nodded and Aro let him go. "I believe you are due to be in the library at this time, is that correct?"

"Yes, I was just on my way there." Aro smiled his approval.

"Good boy. Off you go, then." Patches bowed again and squandered no time rushing to the library. He dampened a dusting cloth and began to wipe down the shelves until the fine wood gleamed under the artificial light. Making himself productive took his mind off of everything else, and it felt good to be needed and appreciated. Since he was first brought to the castle, he responded well to kindness and compassion and started to like working again. Only when he was done dusting did he hear a small mew near his boots. He looked down at saw a white kitten rubbing on his ankles and swishing its tail happily.

"Ethan!" he exclaimed with a laugh, scooping up his friend and hugging him to his chest. "I can't find Carly. Do you know where she's gone?" The white, fluffy head slowly nodded and gestured to be put down. Patches did so and Ethan was a teenage vampire once again.

"Still talking about that human girl?" He nodded, his eyes pleading for an answer. "Look, she's Caius's okay? Just forget about her right now." Ethan sounded annoyed, and that didn't happen often. He realized he snapped at him when he saw his friend's hurt expression. "She's in his chamber. He decided that it would be best to change her at midnight instead of a few days."

"Midnight?!" Patches repeated in alarm. "B-But that means—"

"A few hours to live, yes," Ethan finished for him. "She'll be fine," he added reassuringly. "Caius obviously cares a great deal about her, and he would never hurt what's his." This was a partly true and anyone who had been around for a long while knew it. Like a sports coach with a daughter or son on the team, Caius expected much more out of his hand-picked guards and consequently went rougher on them. He did not, however, go to extremes that could lead to their demise if they did not directly break a sacred law, for that would damage his ego. "Patches, remember that thing I wanted to tell you earlier?" Ethan asked, wishing to change the subject. Patches nodded, his curiosity pending. "I'll tell you in the garden. Come on." He followed him outside and they both sat down on the marble bench, looking up at the twinkling stars above them on a cool, clear night. The world around them was silent and peaceful, and for once in a great long while, both of them felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"What is it, Ethan? You know you can tell me anything." His friend smiled appreciatively.

"I know that," he chuckled. "Patches, for all the time we've known each other, wouldn't you say we're…good friends?"

"Of course. Very good friends." Ethan slowly nodded, his expression pensive as if he had a great weight of thought on his mind.

"But have you ever thought—just for a moment—that we could ever become _more _than friends?" His voice carried an air of hint, but Patches couldn't detect it.

"Yes: great friends. No, _best _friends!" he corrected, his eyes full of enthusiasm. Ethan's expression blanked to an undetectable stare, much to his confusion.

"Yeah, you're right," Ethan spoke in complete monotone. "We're best friends, forever and ever." Patches didn't consider himself smart by any means, but he did know how to read people, and Ethan was beginning to make him worry.

"Are you okay? Please talk to me." He reached to touch Ethan's shoulder but he stood up to avoid his touch.

"I'm fine, Patches. I just need to…go to my room now. Maybe rest a bit, finish that silly word book," he muttered as he started to walk back to the castle, anger seeping through a forced calm façade.

"C-Can I come with you?"

"No," Ethan growled without turning around or slowing down. "Go polish the instruments or something."

"W-We can at least feed together at mealtime, r-right?" Patches asked hopefully. Ethan didn't answer, already through the door. _Now I've got two people mad at me_, Patches thought sadly to himself. He looked up at the stars again, reminding himself that God was watching him and that He always listened to prayers. "What's wrong with me?" he asked aloud, his voice cracking as a reminder of all his flaws surfaced to mind. "I try to be a good friend, but now my best friend doesn't want to talk to me anymore." Was there something he was missing? He racked his brain for an answer and recalled that Ethan didn't like him talking about Carly. _Humans are beneath you,_ he reminded himself in Ethan's voice. Was it so wrong for a vampire to care about a human? Some people had pet cows and they'd still enjoy a hamburger. It didn't matter now. She was to be turned into a monster like him, and they wouldn't contact each other anyway. What if she was disgusted by his appearance that was less than perfect? He never did show her his face. He made a promise to himself to stay away from her, for Ethan as well as Aro and his own wellbeing. He would do something extra special for his friend, such as making a bouquet of flowers for his room or letting him have a portion of his meal when they drank in the throne room. He hoped that would be enough to make him smile, or at least tell him why he left without saying goodbye.


	8. Nightmares and Dreams

**Ethan's POV**

It may have been just be the crazy teenager in me, but I knew this to be true: I loved him. Twenty short years I've spent to realize how much I cared for him—not as a friend—but more as a companion: someone to sing a duet with, someone to paint a portrait of, someone to trust my feelings and thoughts with without being judged. My digital clock on my dresser said 3:00 am, the "haunted" hour. Nothing haunted me more than the image of that last look on his face when I left him. I clutched the unfinished word search book in my hand, wondering why I hesitated to tell him exactly what was on my mind. _Why couldn't I ever find the right words?_

I wanted to try again. This would be my moment of triumph—to throw myself out there in the raw and let him take it as he will. I put the book down and brushed back my hair, mapping out exactly what I would say when I saw him again. A low rumbling sound came from my window. Heavy black storm clouds slowly encroached on the sleeping city, accompanied by distant flashes of lightning whose blistering, garish light outshone the tranquil moon's. I was pretty sure Patches saw them coming too; he always made himself scarce during every storm for a reason that was still a mystery. _He_, I mused to myself, _is a mystery_.

As asinine as it sounds, it occurred to me that I actually knew very little about my secret crush. He never spoke of his human life other than the fact that he was born in Transylvania and spoke Romanian, his native language. He always wore every layer of clothing, even when I reminded him several times that he didn't have to. And he was religious, a Catholic from birth. Perhaps he was not completely devout, but at the very least he believed and he had hope that God would smile down on him and reserve a small piece of Heaven to call his own one day. I never pried on the thought that he would consider me inquisitive and therefore would be uncomfortable, but as his best friend, I feel that he wouldn't think less of me if I asked.

Determined, I set out to find him starting with all of his favorite places to be. He wasn't in his room, or the library, or the art gallery, or the pavilion. No other vampire I crossed knew of his whereabouts either except for one: Heidi. I found her just inside the foyer fingering a stack of tourism brochures. "Heidi, have you seen Patches recently?" I asked. She looked at me and grinned, showing off her icicle-white teeth.

"Of course. He ran off about ten minutes ago."

"Do you know where I could find him?" She just giggled as if she thought my question was in any way adorable. "Please."

"I thought everyone knew," she crooned in her gossipy tone, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Especially you of all vampires." I pressed my lips together, flustered that she was avoiding the question.

"Tell me." The wind scratched at the glass windows outside as if the very presence of a storm was something violent. Heidi dropped the act immediately seeing that I wasn't amused.

"He's crying in the basement downstairs," she said in a small voice just above a whisper. "At the first sign of thunder, he…locks himself away in a dark, lonely room where no one else can see. I followed him once and saw it all; you should just let him be." Crying at _thunder_? That wasn't normal, especially to anyone who grew up on what is geographically known at the stormiest place on earth. I quickly thanked her and bolted to the passageway leading to the lightless basement where most collector items were kept for storage. Caius had his stash of antique instruments of torture, Felix had three garages of beautiful luxury sports cars, and Demetri had a model of the world—miniatures of large cities and countries from Calcutta to Rome, New York to Los Angeles, Hong Kong to Russia, and Costa Rica to Argentina. What was Patches doing down here? My ears attuned to the silence of a sound not wanting to be heard. Little gasping sounds emitted from behind a cracked door. I widened the gap with my hand and peeked inside, revealing a small grey blob huddled in the corner of an empty room.

"Patches? Buddy?" The blob constricted itself into a tighter ball.

"P-Please leave," he implored through anxious whimpers without turning his head. "D-Don't s-see me like th-this." I left the door wide open and drew nearer to him. There was no way I was about to leave him alone now.

"Hey," I said calmly, kneeling down next to him. "What's wrong? You can tell me anything; you know that." I caught a glimpse of his eyes as he raised his head to consider confiding in me.

"I get r-really bad nightmares," he confessed, barely holding himself together. "Wh-Whenever there's a s-storm."

"Nightmares," I echoed, trying to piece together what that might mean. "Nightmares only happen during sleep, and vampires don't sleep, Patches."

"N-No," he moaned. "I get…flashes in my m-memory whenever I close m-my eyes. Th-Then it's like I'm…_there _again!" A rumbling peal of thunder boomed overhead, and I imagined a lovely pour of rain giving the city soil a refreshing drink. Patches shrieked in anguish and pressed himself deeper into the corner, body shaking and chest heaving. Wherever this "there" was, I gathered it was somewhere not pleasant.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, buddy. Nothing's going to get ya." I patted him on the back to calm him down, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. He wailed again and threw himself on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably in total breakdown. I smoothed a hand over my hair, completely unsure of what to do at this point. "Do I need to get Aro?"

"NO!" he practically shouted. "H-He doesn't know…I-I don't w-want him to!" I sighed and reached around his waist, helping him sit up.

"He does know. He knew everything from the very first second he touched your bare skin." I sat with him and explained Aro's unique power in full, how he could sift through every thought and tidbit of memory one has ever had at a single touch, especially the vivid ones that surfaced often. "We once had a painting of an anaconda in the Amazon and he personally asked me to take it down right after you were changed. He said you weren't particularly fond of snakes and seeing the picture would have made you uncomfortable."

"A-And he still l-likes me?" I stared at him in disbelief before breaking into a big smile.

"Are you kidding me? Of _course _he likes you! You can make water in midair, get blood out of upholstery…Dude, you can kill someone just by pushing the oxygen out of their lungs! Do you have any idea how awesome you are?" He allowed himself a small smile and looked down at his Volturi crest. A moment passed before he frowned again, an unhappy thought pressing on his mind.

"I'm sorry for what I did last night to hurt your feelings," he said, not bringing himself to meet my eyes. "I-I wanted to get you s-some flowers, b-but then I saw the sky." He was so anxious and vulnerable to his own problems, yet always thinking of others before himself. I guessed that he was a victim of either abuse or neglect; all he wanted was for everyone to be happy and pleased with him as if a long time ago he set out on a quest to prove himself and find his own happiness in the process. And all he thought now was the one time I was irrationally irate at him when I was really frustrated at myself. I disgusted me looking at him now.

"No, Patches. I should be giving _you _flowers—a whole cartload of the prettiest, most fragrant flowers in existence as a small compensation for the way I acted. You did nothing wrong; I just couldn't find the right words and needed time to think." He slowly nodded and waited patiently for the rest. _Alright, here it goes. _"When you said we could only be best friends, it wasn't exactly the answer I had in mind. I'm honored all the same, but I like you more than a friend—much, much more than a friend." I smiled warmly as I gazed into his anticipating eyes and felt my heart swell with alleviated candor. "I love you, Patches. You have a good soul, a noble heart, and quite frankly, you're the most gentle, sweetest person I've ever met." His jaw slackened, completely speechless.

"You…_love _me?" I gave the affirmative.

"I do. A lot. And I would like to know you better if you'll let me." I put a hand on his shoulder so that no matter where his mind wandered, he could still feel my touch. "You've been through something bad; I can see it I your eyes. If you told me about it, any little thing, I might be able to help you through it."

"No one can help me," he said miserably. "Vampires stay in the same mental and physical condition they were changed with. It's all a horrible nightmare, a-and I can't forget!" He was reaching out to me and I took this cue to hug him, letting his head lean on my chest.

"Then maybe you can make peace with it. Do you love yourself?"

"N-No," came the sniffling response. "There's nothing I love about me. N-Nothing…" I didn't believe that for a second. Everyone has at least a little self-esteem.

"That's pure horsesh—horse_radish_, and you know it. Think of what you would say to someone interviewing you for a prestigious position as a…" I racked my brain for an interesting human occupation that he might have some interest in. "…what's your dream job?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care." In that case, I picked one at random.

"Fine, you're trying to get a job as a travel agent." He seemed to be okay with the suggestion. "What qualities would you bring up that would make them choose you for the job?"

"I'm…trustworthy?" he said slowly as if convincing himself. I smiled, encouraging him to go on. "I'm diligent, and a good listener." He smiled too and sat back up, gathering some more confidence. "I can keep things neat and organized, I have a good sense of location, I've always wanted to travel…" He stopped short and clasped a hand over his mouth. I thought at first he was playing with the scenario, but the wish was all too true on his face. "F-Forget I said that," he whispered. "I'm n-not allowed to."

"It's okay to have those dreams," I said before dropping into a more serious tone. "Just as long as you don't act upon them." If he really did decide to leave without permission, he would be tracked down and killed. And that in turn would kill me. He was happy here, so there was no reason I could think of why he'd hypothetically run off. Judging from his paler than pale complexion, I assumed he was kept inside most of his human life. I supposed it was only natural for him to crave a little adventure.

"I know, Ethan. I won't." I brought him close to me again and smiled when he didn't resist. He was comfortable around me, trusted me—did he return my sentiments?

"Patches, while we're alone, there's something I must know: do you love me too?"

**Patches' POV**

My head snapped back up at his unexpected question. He said he loved me, which was more than "like" and more than "best friend". The only closer relationship I could think of between him and I was soul mates, like married couples. That didn't seem quite right to me; wasn't that type of relationship just for a girl and a boy, not _two_ boys? _Only if you want babies_, a small inner voice reminded me. The truth was, I didn't deserve him. He's so confident, nice, thoughtful, and genuinely fun to be around. If I had a mere ten percent of his bubbly personality, I'd consider myself closer to perfect. But did I love him? Not really. Well, yes, but not in _that _way. If he ever saw my bare body, I know he'd scream. Then I'd lose him and our strong friendship would never be the same.

"Yes, Ethan. I do love you. You've always been my role model, and I appreciate everything you've done for me." I paused and slowly put together the next pieces, crafting them delicately in my mouth so that it would come out easy. "I-I can be your lover, but I don't want to do…dirty things." He lightly touched my cheek with a finger, smiling gently.

"That's perfectly okay with me. I would never do something you wouldn't like." That brought me relief; it was exactly what I wanted to hear. Ethan had a smile I could trust, and when he made a promise, he kept it faithfully in memory.

"D-Does this mean we're m-mates now?" I asked. Ethan just laughed.

"Heck, no! Maybe eventually, but first we must ask Aro's approval. Then," he said with a wink. "I'm taking you out on a date."


	9. Starting Out

**Narrator's POV**

"Okay, I'd like that," Patches said with a shy smile. Ethan could have burst into a full grown Pegasus, prance around the whole castle not caring who sees, and fly into the limitless sky with uncontainable elation. In reality, all he let loose was a boyish grin and a light chuckle.

"Great! Let's take a look outside; I think the storm blew over." Ethan rose to his feet and took Patches' hand in his own. He felt a hesitant pull on his arm when he arrived at the door. Patches still looked shaken up by whatever was bothering him. "I'm not leaving you down here in the dark, if that's what you're thinking. Come with me; you'll be just fine." The younger boy considered this a moment, hearing no rumbling noises in the silence, and decided to let Ethan lead him back upstairs. A faint tinkling sound came from outside, the drip-drop of rain clouds turning off their faucets. The two boys reached the top of the stairway and looked out of the nearest window. "See? It's all better now." Ethan couldn't help but feel ignorant on the subject of his friend's anxiety. What was it about thunderstorms that caused him so much anguish?

_FLASHBACK…_

_It was market week in Midwestern Europe—the absolutely worst and best week of the month for the Black Market. Bruno and his cronies put in many hours setting up shop and moving the lost children in the day before it began. The actual location was unknown; it changed every time to avoid detection and exposure. For some of the children, the ones who decisively ran away, it was a good day to say goodbye to their old lives and begin a fresh start. For the others who were caught and dragged away, this could mean the breakup of siblings and a shove into the terrifying unknown. The Market attracted thousands of different people: druggies, fun-seekers, collectors looking for exotic wares, refugees and criminals looking for a safe haven, men looking for free labor, and occasionally good souls looking to rescue abused kids and animals by buying them up and taking them to a better place for a more promising future. The Market was a lot like Vegas: you never quite know what you'll find there. _

_Patches looked steadily at the ground, no longer caring about the injustices and cruelties of the dark business. He wanted no part of this frightening world, but he knew better than to try to do something about it. A long chain attached him to the arm of Bruno's chair at the front, separating him far from the others. He was fourteen, the age in which desperation for an ounce of love and kindness turns to inveterate resentment. No one wanted him, he concluded a long time ago, and no one ever would. People would grimace at his face and body, too appalled to even touch him. "Good God!" one of Bruno's regulars exclaimed. "Is that even a boy?" _

"_Look at how unhealthy his complexion is; stay back in case he has a skin disease!" Oh, how the people judged. At that point, all he wanted to do was to hide behind something large and wait it out. "What happened to his face?" someone muttered. But every time he tried, someone was always there to drag him back into view. An older, scary-looking man with a pointy black beard stood in front of the other passersby. He reached out to touch his face and get a closer look. Patches had to sit perfectly still as he was examined, the nerves under his scars rippling beneath the man's fingers. His chin was lifted, exposing the silver collar he wore as proof of his monstrosity. _

"_You keep an interesting choice in pets, Mister," the man said to Bruno who was busy counting the money from his last deal. _

"_Thank you. He's one of my greatest success stories." Patches saw that the man had a bag of warm pretzel bites and licked his lips. The smell alone made him realize his hunger, for he hadn't eaten anything all day. None of the staff or other children did either since taking breaks for eating would halt business. Hunger, he knew, was an imperious motivator. _

"_Can I touch him?" His egregious caretaker shrugged with indifference._

"_He's not for sale, but be my guest." Patches shuddered fervently, knowing what was implied by "touch" and backed away. He had hoped to be left alone, never probed by complete strangers. Bruno was already reaching into his pocket as if he previously anticipated this reaction._

"_Hey now, let's have none of that," he chastised in his deep, gruff voice, pulling out a small injection needle with some liquid in the syringe. He hovered above the boy's head and held him firmly around the waist while his other hand pulled down his shorts, exposing his pale and bruised rear end. Patches closed his eyes and whimpered, crying out when he felt the puncture in one of his more sensitive muscles. Slowly but surely, his limbs shut down, leaving him paralyzed on his empty stomach. "Go ahead. He's perfectly harmless." Bruno left the man to it while he sauntered to the other side to greet the next set of potential customers. _

_Patches wasn't asleep, but only just. He could still move his eyes and half of his lips, but that was all. The creepy man put down his pretzel bag and knelt down next to him with a mixed expression of bemusement and disgust. "Something tells me you weren't going to try anything anyway," he said, making sure his back was to the others before he continued. That wasn't true. He could recall a few good times when his tolerance snapped in two and he tried to severely injure anyone who began to palpate him as this man was doing now. "Don't worry; I'm a good guy," he whispered as he tugged up the boy's shirt. "I'm rescuing kids like you from places like this. Been doing it for months. Oh my!" he breathed, getting a good look at the bloody raw scabs trying to replenish broken, sliced skin that wasn't already terribly scarred. "You've been through the mill, haven't you?" he asked as he checked for broken ribs. Patches tried to answer but his jaw was stuck shut. He was felt all over and then moaned in objection when he sensed his shorts sliding off as he was turned on his side. "I'm sorry. I have to be thorough." He closed his eyes, holding in bitter, humiliated tears until it was all over. When he opened, his clothes were back on and there was a pretzel bite sitting right in front of his mouth._

"_How is he?" Bruno asked behind the man with the pointed beard. One of his hulking assistants stood at his side. The man stood up._

"_Fair. He looks severely treated given his relatively mellow temperament." He grinned maliciously to sell the aura that he was no better than the whole lot of Black Market merchants. "I'll buy him from you. Name your price." The hulking man cocked his shotgun and pointed it at the man's head. _

"_Nice try," Bruno said, stepping over to his chair and removing a small monitor bug from the bottom, revealing the fact that he heard every word. "But I'm not about to have some saint expose me." BOOM! The bullet went straight through his skull, right next to the petrified and still paralyzed boy. Patches couldn't move for the next hour, thinking about nothing else other than the moment he was almost saved. _

_END FLASHBACK…_

**Patches' POV**

I couldn't tell him in so many words how incredibly pathetic I felt around him. I've heard grown men shouting and screaming at each other, the slamming of doors, the heavy footsteps of horses pulling cargo, and on occasion, a few gunshots—yet I couldn't stand against one little storm? I didn't know why, but rainy days made all of the loud sounds come back, taking me with them. I couldn't forget, or forgive, or ever face all of that again. With every kill I took for nourishment, I avenged my abuse and the exploitation mankind has brought upon the helpless inhabitants of the world. In some small way, it gave me a little peace about as narrow as a sliver of lightning between the booms of thunder. "Yes," I said, looking out the window with Ethan. "All better now."

"Great," he smiled. "Let's go find Aro and see if we can plan a date." I gulped nervously at his eagerness as we traveled to the throne room. Ethan caught my look and squeezed my hand. "Stop worrying, will you? The least he could do is say no." _That's not true_, I wanted to tell him. I've seen a couple of Guards in the Lower division get beheaded and replaced because they asked for too much and asserted themselves above their rank. Then again, just one day wouldn't be asking much, would it? Ethan seemed much more comfortable talking to the Masters than I did, so I let him do all of the talking.

We went inside and saw that all three leaders were preoccupied. Jane, Felix, Santiago, and Demetri stood at attention in the center of the room. They were receiving a mission trip to Alaska to punish one coven and then to Washington, USA to check up on another. I couldn't catch every detail, and honestly didn't try to, but it sounded important and exciting. Master Caius finished his long set of instructions detailing exactly how to make the first coven suffer before Master Aro briefly wrapped up the meeting. "I trust you understand what to do. Go now and make your preparations to depart in the next hour." The four took a bow and headed out the door, none of them giving Ethan and I the slightest glance of acknowledgement. Only when the door shut behind them did the spotlight transition to us. Ethan dropped my hand, his face now carrying a professional countenance drained of emotion.

"What do you want?" Master Caius snapped, already eying me with revulsion. Ethan nudged me to the center and together we bended forward in a low, formal bow.

"We wish to request one full day of respite for…" Ethan trailed off, his confidence faltering to invite suspicion. Or perhaps vulnerability? I knew that feeling too well, and I wasn't about to let him squander his wish from hesitation.

"A date," I finished for him. I watched how each of the leaders' faces transformed. Master Caius looked even more disgusted than usual, and the other two—yes, even Master Marcus!—were inexpressibly amused.

"And what, might I ask, is the occasion of this date?" Master Aro inquired. The darker haired man on his right leaned over to him.

"A relationship date, Brother. I can see the strong bonds around their relationship, ties of lovers just starting out." Master Aro arched an eyebrow, glancing quizzically between Ethan and I. Master Caius looked ready to throw up blood clots.

"I see. What location did you have in mind?" I glanced at my friend, wondering if he thought it out this far. He mentioned he was "taking me out", but that went directly against the rule that kept me inside the estate.

"The villa in Eastern Volterra," Ethan answered smoothly, his confidence resurfacing. _What? We had a villa too? _No one ever spoke of a getaway spot before. "If you will permit me."

"That is exclusively for privacy, reserved only for a man and his wife," Caius stated coldly. I could tell where he stood in our relationship, though I didn't understand what the main issue was. It was just a first date between two friends who want to know each other better, nothing…else.

"Peace, Brother. That is not your judgment to call, especially when you originally objected to the idea of a second building due to its secrecy. Marcus, would you do me the honor?" Master Aro extended his hand for his coven brother to take to see the invisible bonds himself. "It's true; what I see is quite auspicious for a plausible relationship. Therefore, I see no reason why one day cannot be granted for you two to share on the condition that you both will resume your duties directly after twenty-four hours past." Ethan and I shared a smile. After over twenty years, I finally had a day off. "Ethan?" My friend's head snapped forward at attention. "Be sure to take _every _precaution."

"Yes, Master," he responded immediately. I was lost, but he seemed to know what that meant.

"Your day begins at sunrise, though I highly recommend limiting your travels to during the night. Good day." We bowed again with gratitude and took our leave, holding in our excitement until we were out of earshot.

**Ethan's POV**

"Ethan, we did it! We can finally go outside!" Patches exclaimed with a wide smile.

"I told you all we had to do was ask," I grinned, now victorious against his doubt twice in a row. According to a clock in the hallway, it was now nearing five o'clock; the sun would rise in the east in less than an hour. We had precious little time to prepare and leave. I tapped him on the arm. "Come on, we're going to my room. Don't forget your cloak."

"Okay," he answered before running in the opposite direction to his room, allowing me to dash up to mine. _Every precaution_. I hoped I still had my supplies. I flung open my door and rummaged through my drawers, lifting up neat piles of clothes until I found what I was looking for: a plastic package of dyed contacts with a hazel hue—just light enough to see clearly through yet just dark enough to cover up the telltale red of our nonhuman irises. Among other things in my wardrobe, I had a small stash of contemporary clothing to blend in among the human populace: jean denim pants, sneaker shoes, checkered button-up tees. I had everything laid out before Patches was at my door with his grey cloak draped over his arm.

"Hey, come on in. I have some stuff I need you to try on." He stepped inside and looked at the items on my bed with confused interest.

"Wh-What's all this?"

"Clothes and contacts, or for a better definition, your human costume." I handed him a plastic box and the pile with the light bluish tee that would compliment his hair and complexion. "Take these. You can change in my bathroom," I hurried, pointing to the door while simultaneously pulling off my boots. I turned away and crossed my arms over my chest, gripping to the bottom of my dress shirt and dragging it over and off my head. When I wiped the blonde hair out of my face, Patches was still standing there with an expression between confused and amused. He blinked back into reality when he caught my eye.

"Oh! Y-You mean right _now_?"

"Yes! Hurry!" I snapped in a tone louder and more demanding than I would have intended. His spine flinched upright and dropped a quick bow before he disappeared behind my bathroom door. I slid on my jeans and fastened a watch around my wrist before it hit me what just happened. In the spur of the moment I raised my voice at him, and he responded in the only way he knew how. Just like the thunder. Concerned, I went over to the door. "Patches?" I made sure to keep my voice calm and collected.

"Yes, Ethan?" came a small murmur. His voice was higher in pitch and vulnerable to my ears. Even the lightest pin drop could have cut such fragility.

"Are you okay, buddy?" A metallic zip came through the door, but nothing else. "Hey, I'm sorry for raising my voice. We're pressed for time and I let the pressure get to me." A ruffling of a shirt was the only sound. "Could you please come out so I could see you?" The door opened, revealing a casually dressed, boyish teenager that could have just returned from a skate park.

"H-How do I look?" he asked, already scrutinizing himself in the mirror above my sink.

"Very fine," I grinned. "Very normal; you'll fit right in." He didn't look too sure, tracing the noticeable scar on his cheek with a finger. "Even I forget that's there…when you're smiling." He gently raised the right corner of his lips to match the strained left side, making them almost level in height. "There you go," I approved, moving toward the sink to pop in my own contacts. Once we were all dressed up, the cloak was the last thing. I showed him how to tuck the bottom in his pants and wear it like a baggy hoodie. I announced that we were ready and we both headed to the front door where the tourists enter but never exit. "Ready?"

"A-Are you sure this will work?" Such a silly question. I buried one hand into my pocket and offered him my other.

"Yes, do you trust me?" He looked down and took my hand, nodding the affirmative. I opened the door and passed through it first, turning around just in time to catch the joyous wonder in his eyes as he took his first step into the other world he has never known.


	10. One More Dawn

**Author's Note: A big, hearty thank you to all of my reviewers:**

**Luis Alfredo Campos Sylvester**

**Caliwali6**

**hollycullen5**

**You guys rock! It's your support that fuels my passion for writing. Three weeks ago, I honestly never expected to reach Chapter 10 this early! Without further ado, enjoy!**

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**Patches' POV**

For the first time in so long, I made contact with the human-made streets of a human-established city in a human-infested world, all of them strangers to me. The dimly lit paths showed no sign of life, though I knew the populace would soon wake and fill the stores and avenues. The stars in the sky twinkled faintly at me, winking me good day as they relinquished control of the sky to the dawn and faded from sight. I took a few steps forward and turned around. I almost forgot how incredibly grand and majestic our castle looked from the outside. No wonder so many tourists venture in every day. Standing beside it, I realized just how small I was in comparison to its massive height. I felt two familiar hands touch my shoulders and turn me around. "Come on, Patches. We still have to get there and it's almost daylight," Ethan reminded me, gently moving my arm in one direction near the hills on the countryside of town. His voice was calm, but his movements were anything but. Once I started walking with him, he began to power-walk in lengthy strides, his hold on my hand prompting me to do the same. Once we matched pace, he looked over his shoulder and picked up his speed to a jog. I had to look down at this point to make sure one foot didn't accidentally cross over the over. An old sprained tendon in my right leg that didn't heal properly sometimes came back to haunt me when I ran. My foot would spastically turn inward at a slant and trip the other if I wasn't cautious to mind it. Luckily, he didn't break into a sprint.

We passed several buildings, homes, and marketplaces that looked rather small compared to the Volturi estate. I felt slightly cramped just sliding through the narrow streets between them. A sample breath of fresh air awakened my senses with a start. Somewhere close, a bakery rose out of its dormancy, blooming with the aroma of freshly baked bread and morning pastries. How long had it been since I had one of those cinnamon rolls? _Far too long is my guess._ A pool of saliva surfaced on my tongue and I wondered how one would taste in my vampire mouth. Sweet with sugary glaze? Warm with golden brown delight? If I could just close my eyes and savor the smell a little longer…

"Oof!" I fell forward with a thud, face planted on the stone path. My extended arm was gently put down followed by a tsking sound. When I raised my head, Ethan was staring intently at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, helping me up.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," I answered, dusting myself off. A small part of me wanted to tell him about the bakery smell and the physical ailment, but the larger part thought it silly. "I just got distracted, that's all." I smiled and began walking in our intended direction, taking elongated strides to show my enthusiasm. After eight paces, no footsteps followed my lead.

"Your ankle's slightly crooked," he observed before catching up to me. "You should have just said so, silly." With that, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders while his other brushed behind my knees and pulled me straight up into his chest. Surprised, I clung to the back of his neck for balance.

"Ethan, I can walk. Really!" I protested, attempting to swing my outmost leg over his hand; his fingers only locked on my knees with a death grip.

"I know, Patches, but we have to bolt there before sunrise and I don't want you to fall again." I understood that he was being protective, but I didn't want to be carried like a baby. On the contrary, he should see that I can be strong and every amount of man he is. His tone left no patience for argument, so I decided to relax and enjoy the fast-paced ride.

My head pressed into his shoulder the second he took off like a shot, sprinting quicker than the human eye could detect, stopping time as we flew over the rooftops and through the grassy plains on the outskirts of town. I squeezed my eyes shut; the flurry of color started to make me dizzy. Through my eyelids, I could make out glints of something bright. "We're here," Ethan announced, turning my attention to the white villa resort. The sun caught up with us, its brilliance reflecting off Ethan's face and into my line of vision. His soft eyes never looked so dazzling in my living memory.

**Ethan's POV**

I could have looked at that beautiful baby face all day. Strands of auburn hair cascaded around his heart-shaped head, accenting his large eyes full of wonder and delight. His mouth was slightly agape, showing the smallest sliver of tongue peeking between two pink lips. He still had his arms looped around my neck, probably recovering from my sprinting. When I judged our blissful silence start to turn awkward, I set him back on his feet and we stepped up to the cream colored door. It was a casita compared to home, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a recreational room, a special cellar for blood storage, and a sheltered patio with a quasi-outdoor swimming pool and Jacuzzi. From my pocket I drew the key and unlocked the door, ushering Patches inside first before flipping on the light switch.

The inside, for lack of a better analogy, could be described as the possible rough draft of Heaven. Silver and white. The pictures, furniture, beds, carpet, walls, and appliances were either a brilliant silver or a dazzling white. "Wow," Patches breathed beside me, taking the scenery in.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? A more contemporary style than what you're used to—"

"I love it!" he exclaimed, striding deeper in and locating the closet to store his shoes. I grinned and followed him, stopping to see him pull up his hoodie. The tee attached itself and flipped up, revealing a smooth white tummy. On the side, a large red stripe slicked around his waist; it was a deep cut, a scrape that couldn't have been made by accident. He detected the draft at once and tugged the shirt down protectively. I pretended not to notice and did the same. "I'll take that for you." Before I had time to respond, he was already sliding a hanger into one of my sweatshirt's sleeves. I looked around the place and gave a brief tour.

"So, this is our small getaway lodge. It's mainly built for two couples, but we'll only need the one bedroom unless you'd rather have a room to yourself. There's a bathroom on either side and downstairs is the blood cellar and the entertainment room—which is like a small theatre for films and stuff." He slowly nodded and glanced from one room to the next when a sight outside caught his eye. He wandered to the window and his face lit up with a curious grin.

"What's that?"

"That's the pool," I smiled back. "It's technically outside, but it has an enclosure around it so that the sun doesn't hit our skin in case humans happen to pass by. If you want natural light inside it, the roof can open up." An errant thought crossed my mind at that moment. Just a dirty, little thought. "Want to go swimming?" He thought for a moment and frowned.

"We didn't bring any bathing suits."

"I know," I smirked, probably much wider than socially appropriate. The innocence in his eyes didn't catch on.

"B-But I have to have _something _on when I swim!" he protested, now looking anxious. I raised an eyebrow, knowing that he was hiding something he didn't want me to see. I recalled our conversations about his "dark days" and the fact that he never seemed to wear one article less than his full outfit. It wasn't hard to deduce his secret.

"No, you don't. We're both guys; we can go naked if we want to." He vigorously shook his head, his eyes widening to their full extent. I shrugged, remembering my promise to stay within his comfort zone. "Maybe later then. Would you rather go downstairs instead?"

"Okay." He followed me down where the nifty chrome machine pumped the fused blood in the corner to keep it from clumping. It was as long as a sofa and had two tap faucets, one on each end. I handed him a glass bottle from the cabinet and demonstrated how to use it by filling up my own. He smacked his lips, the sight and smell of the liquid arousing his thirst and reddening his irises through the contacts. When he acquired a full bottle, we clinked glass to glass and took a swig.

"How is it?" I asked. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, evaluating the flavor.

"More syrupy, but not as sweet." He told me once that his palate preferred a cherry syrup type of flavor, like Grenadine except with cherries rather than pomegranates. Every vampire tastes blood differently, the flavor that will never turn dull so it could always be craved. Mine personally tastes richly of root beer.

"That's because the added plasma thins out the blood to preserve it. I guess it's decent." We finished our bottles and tossed them in the garbage before I asked him what he wanted to do next.

"I don't really know. W-What do other people do on their vacations?" I felt bad for him. The poor child probably never had a full day off in years. I took his hand and led him back upstairs.

"Anything they want," I told him. "Most of the time, it's all about relaxing. Just get comfortable, you know?" He nodded and glanced at the back window again. "If you want to swim, just say the word," I assured him. He bowed his head and bit his lower lip as if to think it over.

After a while, he muttered something that sounded like, "Yebetwitashurtun".

"What was that, Patches?" I had to ask.

"Y-Yeah…b-but with a shirt on," he repeated, slower this time. I raised an eyebrow but decided not to question his insecurities.

"Right this way, please." I crossed over to the back door and held it open for him. "The towels are out there between the pool and the Jacuzzi." He gave a small smile and headed toward the pool, smoothing his hair back as he went. Sensing his nervousness, I began to strip down, my pants unzipped and my shirt over my arm before I reached the enclosure. He threw me a quizzical look when he saw what I was doing. "Your turn," I prompted as I dumped my clothes on a cabana lounge chair, now only in my boxers. He pressed his lips into a pout, silently asking that I turn around. I grudgingly nodded and faced the villa, placing a hand over my eyes for good measure. A moment passed when I heard him step into the shallow end. "Can I look now?"

"Yes," came his small voice. His longer tee shirt was rolled up past his elbows, the bottom passing the length of his briefs. His hands were clasped in front of him, fidgeting slightly. I jumped on the shallow step beside him.

"Awesome! You know how to swim, right?" I inquired, semi-serious. He chuckled and gave the affirmative. I loved the sound of his laugh—melodious, modest, and oh, so boyish. I waded into the water; the cool fluid refreshing to the touch. "Come on in, then!" One step at a time, he ventured deeper in until the water level came to his shoulders. He wiggled around to keep himself afloat, smiling happily as he did so.

"I-I haven't done this…i-in _years_!" he took off breaststroke to the other side of the pool, reminding me of an excited jellyfish. I chased after him underwater, taking advantage of being undead. Breathing, for vampires, is entirely optional. I looked up at his worried face as he stopped swimming and looked around for me. Just as a joke, I seized his ankles and tugged him under to wet his whole head. He yelped in surprise and began to kick frantically, twisting violently in my grip until I let go and surfaced. I was met with a cold glare and crossed arms. "That wasn't funny." I disagreed, though it was evident I touched a nerve.

"Okay, it wasn't. I'm sorry." He didn't seem to hear me, his gaze fixated on the bobbing ripples ebbing away. He was having another 'nightmare' moment. I touched him comfortingly on the shoulder; I would never give up on him.

"What's a Jacuzzi?" he asked suddenly, lifting his stare to look directly at me.

"It's kind of like a smaller pool, except it's box-shaped, has seats in it, heats up…know what? Why don't I just show you?" I offered, deciding that showing him would be more effective than explaining the technicalities.

"Sure." I swam back to the shallow end, motioning for him to follow. I leapt out of the pool and moved to the large, cube-like structure. I rolled back the protective top covering and waited for Patches to come close enough to see the buttons before I turned it on. A whirring sound of a generator caused the water inside to vibrate. He looked on in wonder; a magical gleam arose in his eyes.

"Stick your finger in. Tell me when it's warm," I said quietly, walking off to collect some towels. I wanted him so badly, to be happy, to be with me, and to be happily with me. Friends could never be enough anymore, for a friendly relationship barely suggested the feelings I had for him. I plucked a couple of towels from the storage chest and set them on the lounge chair next to our clothes.

"It's warm," he announced, turning in my direction. I smiled and swirled my hand in the water. Sure enough, the temperature leveled at one hundred-three degrees. "Like a bathtub." He swung a leg over the edge and climbed in, sighing softly as he sank in one of the corner seats. A soothing purr escaped his throat and I knew he finally found his peaceful spot. I settled in beside him, drumming my fingers lightly on the dry surface. "This is nice," he hummed, tilting his head to meet my eyes.

"It gets better," I grinned, running my hand over the controls. He drifted closer to see what I was doing, his handsome face mere inches from mine. I flicked the switch that activated the jets. Bubbles burst to the center from all directions at once, emitting only a small rumble. I watched Patches' waist as some of the bubbles found their way under his shirt, scooping it up until it bunched between his shoulder blades. He caught me staring and struggled to pull it back down, but it was too late. I saw it all and realized in an instant just how much torture and suffering he endured, what baggage he bore, the reason behind his nightmares and his insecurity, why he was so sensitive…everything.

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**Author's Note: What did you think of this chapter? Any thoughts or suggestions on where it should go next? **


	11. Healing Process

**Ethan's POV**

It all made sense, yet no sense at all. Half of his back was broken skin, pink and reddish splotches. The other half wasn't skin at all, but raw muscle and blood crystallized in place from his turning. I fought to keep the pending growl at the bottom of my throat; Aro didn't even give him time to heal. I wanted to cry, scream, or lash out in fury, but none of those options would do either of us much good. _My God, who had done this to him?! _I felt my face twitching with rage as my emotions boiled over the top of my resistance. Patches stared at me with vulnerable eyes, reading my every move. "I didn't want you to see," he whispered miserably. "It's too ugly." My hands became shaky fists at the thought of anyone hurting him.

"Patches, who did this to you?" I intoned with every last shred of calmness I had left in me. He hung his head on the verge of tears.

"H-Humans," he admitted sadly. "Th-They h-hurt me…s-said I was a m-monster." That did it. I leapt out of the Jacuzzi and raced to the nearest tree, blowing it off its roots with rapid punches to the trunk. I breathed heavily as it fell and proceeded to beat it further shard by shard until the entirety had been reduced to splinters and sawdust. A little misplaced aggression couldn't quench my concern, but my mind felt significantly clearer when it was no longer clouded by ire. I blew the dust off my knuckles and returned to him. He was sitting on his shirt in a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest, his breath pulsing with silent sobs.

"They abused you," I stated, mostly to myself. I still couldn't comprehend how anyone could be capable of such crimes. He slowly nodded, the silver on his neck glinting in the light. "And that—it's a tag, isn't it?" Indeed, the tag that bore his name, a name that wasn't meant for a boy. "They treated you like an animal." My face began to twitch again. I would move Heaven and Hell before anyone laid a hand on him like that again. "Humans…_this_ is why I hate them: they always cause pain and hurt to people who don't deserve it." As I fumed, I tried to think of ways I could help him somehow. Only fresh blood maintained the healthy sheen of vampire skin because no topical salve could penetrate the surface. I remembered that blood was attracted to heat and it occurred to me what I could do. I circled the Jacuzzi to him and tapped his shoulder. "Let's go inside. I want to try something." I wasted no time drying off, wrapping the towel around my waist as a substitute for my heavier clothes. Patches remained in the hot tub with his head buried in his arms making small sniffling noises. I took a steady breath and brought his towel to him, drying off his hair and shoulders. "Come here; I'm going to take care of you," I said, lifting him out of the tub and into my arms. He was still dripping as I carried him back to the villa, but I didn't care. I needed to get him to a bed.

"Wh-What are you g-going to do?" he asked with anxious eyes. I gently put him down on one of the luxurious white beds and rummaged through a storage closet where some extra comfort items were. I found what I was looking for and laid it beside him—a large heating pad, a blanket with benefits. He glanced at the object, then back up at me.

"I'm going to get more blood," I answered, already stepping down the staircase to the basement. As I filled two more bottles, the soft, thumping sound of footsteps neared the top of the stairs. "You better still be on that bed!" I called up with a slight smile. The footsteps obediently retreated, followed by the sound of springs compressing in the mattress. I found him lying in the center like a child with the sheets and comforter pulled up to his neck. He eyed the bottles in my hand, the heating pad again, and lifted an eyebrow. "I have an idea to heal you, but you'll have to be willing to trust me, okay?"

"Okay," was his only response. I set the glass on the end table and peeled the covers back down so that he could sit up.

"I want you to drink one of these so it'll get in your system," I said, handing him one of the bottles. He drank it slowly and watched out of the corner of his eye as I turned on the heating blanket. I marveled at the quick reaction time; it felt warm to the touch in twenty seconds flat. "Are you done?" He nodded and passed me the empty glass to put back on the table. "Okay. Roll over on your stomach for me and try not to move." He took his time doing so, growing more skeptical by the minute. Cautiously, I bent over him and began to peel his shirt off. He let out a protesting whimper but made no move to stop me. "Shh, it's okay. You'll feel better soon."

I tossed the soaked shirt on the ground and gently dabbed him dry with my towel. He tensed up at my touches, doubtless not accustomed to being doctored like this. The heat blanket came next with the intention of getting him to relax. The blistering heat on his wounds had the opposite effect; he screamed through clenched teeth and clutched at the sheets, daring to tear through the material. I immediately took it back, adjusted the temperature five degrees lower, and sprawled it over him again. It was set at moderately hot though he acted like he was on fire. "Try to relax. It'll work better if you relax." His chest continued to heave with racing breaths, yet I knew he was doing his best to fight the pain.

_He needs a distraction. _I sat on the bed with him and casually stroked the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp through his thick hair. I dug my other hand between the sheet and his abdominal region, massaging his tummy to unwind the muscles underneath. His sounds and shaky movements subsided and at last, he was completely calm.

"Is it starting to feel good?" I asked him after a while.

"Yeah," he hummed sleepily with his eyes closed.

"Good. Rest now for as long as you'd like." He purred in contentment, the sound I needed to hear to make sure he was okay. I stopped massaging him and gently petted his head, leaning inward until I could hear his steady breathing. He looked so peaceful lying there; it was almost as if time had stopped to savor this moment that unfortunately would not last. His slightly parted lips looked so soft and pink—I couldn't help but match them with my own for just a few seconds. One gentle kiss to put both of our minds at ease. He didn't stir, although I knew he felt it. I stood back up and draped the sheets over him to shut out the air conditioning and keep the heat insulated. _This remedy has to work_. Letting a hopeful smile cross my lips, I tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the other to give him space. I needed to think.

**Narrator's POV**

Meanwhile at the castle, Aro paced the throne room in deep contemplation. His mission party had not returned yet, and he wondered if there was some sort of holdup they encountered on the way. Despite his case of the "what-ifs" he assured himself that they had a perfectly good reason for the delay and would debrief him upon their return. Marcus pointed out after their mid-afternoon repast that the Guard nearly lost their meal on account of the severely blood-stained floors. A few of the wiser humans noticed the mess entering the throne room and made a run for it. Luckily, they had no chance of escaping with their lives, but the guards on hand were not too happy about the impromptu chase. Caius let out a low, exasperated breath from his seat of honor.

"What do you make of their tardiness, Brother?" Aro asked the blonde. Another thought crossed his mind, though highly unlikely. Surely no one had any thoughts of running away—the very notion was ridiculous! Still, that one time years ago…

"Hmph. Nothing." He read the look on Aro's face and rolled his eyes. "Surely you don't think any of them would be foolish enough to _try_ anything!"

"Indeed, Brother," intoned Marcus, looking up from his Bible. He was perusing the book of Exodus. "Keep a little faith." They were right, Aro reasoned. His mind did tend to go on wild tangents on a few occasions.

"You don't suppose there is even the _slightest_ chance of an obstruction?" Caius leaned back comfortably.

"Certainly not!" he scoffed. "You forget my new super weapon." He snapped his fingers at the doors nearest to him without even bothering to turn his head. On cue, the doors swung open and a cold, robed figure glided into the room, filling the once relaxed atmosphere with spine-chilling obscurity. Its head slowly turned to the center of the room, eying the red splashes that dotted the marble floor. One of the dark, rich grey sleeves lifted to the mess, the pale fingers outstretched as if to touch something that wasn't tangible. Flames like fireworks shot out of the palm and torched every bloody blotch in sight, reducing them to charred bits of dust. The sleeve returned to its side to bend accordingly with the torso's deep bow.

Carly gradually rose to meet her maker's egotistical yet impressed gaze, the vivacity and personality she had as a human diminished to a callous, hopeless drone drained of feeling and emotion. "Master?"

**Patches' POV**

I liked this place, this refreshing rapture of silver and white. I liked the quiet privacy of it, the pristine cleanliness as if barely used, and all because of Ethan. I thought of what we could do together here, without chores, without agendas. _Just us,_ I thought to myself as I rested in a bed of soft white. _Just us. _I thought for a second what it would be like to be with him as we were now, only forever. My eyes fluttered open at the light touch of his hand on my shoulder. "Patches, I need you to drink this," came his voice somewhere behind me. He shook up the blood bottle and pulled away the warm blanket that felt so soothing like a hug that wouldn't ever end. I groaned as the blanket and I parted. Ethan gasped in surprise, triggering my suspicion.

"Wh-What?! What is it?"

"Your back, it's _healing_!" Healing, a wonderful word that was a pleasure to hear. I reached over my shoulder to feel the proof. The scars would never go away, though I could tell they've slimmed in thickness. Some of the particularly nasty parts had a smooth, flaky layering over them like new skin beginning to form. Ethan grabbed me under the arms and heaved me into a sitting position before sticking the second blood bottle in my direction. "Keep drinking; it's really working!" I grabbed it from him and gulped it all down until not one drop remained. Sweet cherry-tasting juices dribbled between my lips, but I licked them off just in time before they could stain anything. Ethan excitedly took the bottle back and gestured for me to lie down again. I plopped on my stomach without delay and he gave me the blanket back as a reward.

I closed my eyes and tried to rest, but I had difficulty calming down with the possibility of getting better. Until now, it didn't seem like healing could be remotely feasible. A dip in the sheets told me that Ethan was climbing onto the bed. When I opened my eyes, he did more than climb onto the bed—he climbed _into _it. My eyes widened when I noticed something else: he wore nothing save for a clean pair of crimson boxers. He smiled at my reaction and nestled closer to me, stroking the top of my head again as he did before. "Feeling better yet?" My head felt too heavy to nod.

"Much, thank you." Yes, I felt better that I had in as long as I could remember. But not because of the blanket or the blood. Ethan gave me both of those and his time of day to take care of me, even though he didn't have to. That was more than friendly, that was…

"Patches, I've been thinking. About us?" he started casually as all of our conversations did. "Could you see us being together?" I smiled.

"Of course, I can; we're together right now." His fingers dug a millimeter deeper into my hair.

"Not physically, but in terms of a relationship. What I'm saying is, could you see us…being mates one day?" I looked at him, silent at the question though not surprised. I knew he'd ask sooner or later when he told me that he loved me, but it came differently than I expected. I aimed to impress him and show him the best of me, but instead he saw the worst. And yet he _still _loved me?

"Yeah, I can. One day maybe," I said with a little tug in my heart strings. I loved him, yes, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he loved me more than I could match and repay. Brotherly love was the love I had for him, the best, strongest love two friends could share. Ethan didn't want that, though; he wanted that type with all the closeness and physical touching I've only seen between a woman and a man couple taking a midnight stroll in the moonlight outside my room window. I reconsidered the question and even though I didn't return the same feelings, I had no choice. Ethan saw the worst of me and met it with acceptance and compassion; the least I could do was make him happy by telling him what he wanted to hear, right? No other person—not even Master Aro—could have comforted me with such sincere gentleness and affection. It had always been Ethan, the first and probably my last chance to experience the greatest ordinary miracle of them all. That was more than just friendly, that was…_love_. Adoring love, selfless love, devoted love…_true _love. I gazed into his eyes sparkling with joy and I realized that it was his love that healed me. For anyone to care about me the way he did—it was all I ever wanted.


	12. Restless Tonight

**Ethan's POV**

_Mates_. The very word was a ray of forbidden sunshine in my shadowed life. How delicious it sounded! I've waited three thousand years to taste that word in my mouth and know it was meant for me. _Maybe_, I silently repeated to myself. He said maybe. Another five-letter "m" word that completely crushed the eternal promise of the first. Was he afraid of commitment or did he just have doubts? His work ethic proved time and time again that his hesitancy couldn't have been caused by the first. Doubts it was, and I thought of an easy way to verify it. "Patches, right before I left last time, do you remember anything, ah, touching your face?" He blinked in thought with a curiously blank expression.

"I thought I felt…something on my lips," he slowly answered.

"Like what?" I wanted him to say it, hear it in his own voice.

"I think it was your finger. D-Did I have blood on my face?" he asked, looking unsure. My face fell; his mind was completely closed off to suggestion. Catching my expression, he raised his head and propped himself up on two elbows, his palms digging into the pillow. "Wh-What's the matter?" I sighed and waved it away.

"It's nothing." _It was everything. _"Just relax, okay?" _Because I won't._ Putting on a fake smile, I petted his head again and guided him back down on the pillow. Behind me, sunlight flickered in the window, falling over the mountainside in the west. Time made its presence for the first time in a while. "We only have a few hours left." He huffed out a small sigh and glanced toward the window as well, carefully calculating the minutes until sundown.

"I don't want to go back yet," he mumbled. "I'm good right here." I raised an eyebrow, unable to tell if he was kidding or serious.

"We'd have to return sometime; the Masters need us," I reminded him. The throne room would most likely be a rancid mess about now. Corpses everywhere stacked in a large heap in the middle—a blow torch might be necessary.

"I know," he replied with weak eyes, looking so delicate all snuggled in bed. "But I like here better."

"I'm not promising anything, but maybe we could come back another day." That put the smile back on his face. He needed something to hope for. He slowly nodded, clutching the corners of his pillow. It was clear that he didn't want to go back and work a full schedule so soon. I really couldn't ask for another day; it was generous of Aro to give us a full twenty-four hours, and a minute more would be asking too much. The sun had disappeared, which meant it would be safe for us to go outside. "In the meantime, do you want to go out for a walk? We hurried this morning, so here's your chance to really see the town."

"Sure," he smiled, perching himself up on his wrists and enjoying a good stretch. I reached over him and turned the heat blanket off while he looked around the room. "Ethan? Uhm, wh-where's my clothes?"

"I put your shirt in the dryer and everything else is in the other room," I said as I pointed in the general direction of the hallway. He immediately shoved the covers away and dashed to retrieve his clothes and shirt. When his back was turned, I noticed more deep red lines striping his tailbone and thighs. A large part of me wanted his briefs off so that I could see the whole picture, although I had an uncomfortable feeling that it wasn't going to happen. As he left, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and started pulling all of my clothes back on with a slight frown. To say I wasn't disappointed would be lying; I wanted a straight answer from him, not a "maybe". Still, it was much too early to give up hope. I'd show him the town like he always wanted to on a moonlit stroll and that would be enough to win his interest in me.

"I'm ready," came Patches' voice from near the front door. He was all dressed up and ready to go before I finished sliding my pants on.

"Just a moment," I mumbled more to myself as I sped up the process so as not to squander any more time. "Alright, let's go." I opened the door and locked it securely behind us, tucking the key in my pocket. Looking out in the distance, houses, other buildings, street lamps, and sidewalks bunched together in one civilized area, leaving the outskirts wild with rolling hills of blissful green grass. Not a human in sight. "Where should we go?" Patches glanced around and pointed to the wider space.

"There, the hills."

"Good choice," I grinned, taking his hand in mine. I led him quietly through the streets to be on the safe side and let him go when we came to the top of a high hill. The air flowed with a gentle breeze and the stars twinkled brightly above us.

"It's so spacey out here," he observed. Patches stretched himself out on the grass and proceeded to roll downhill, laughing boyishly all the way to the bottom. "You try, Ethan!" Sighing at his antics, I sat down and lowered myself into a flat position before pushing off the edge and letting gravity do the rest. As a joke, I urged myself to keep going when I touched the bottom and continuously rolled away from him. Between rolls, I saw him scramble to his feet with a look of surprise. "Hey, come back here!" he called, chasing after me.

"Help, I can't stop!" I lied, curious to see what he would do. Patches jogged ahead and bent his knees, his hands pushed out like a barrier. Like a bowling ball, I toppled him over and timed his fall so that his chest was pressed up against mine. Together we rolled in equal turns—one moment he was on top and I the next. I felt his arms wrap around my back for support and I easily returned the favor. He gasped with alarm and tucked his face into my shoulder. _What a sweetheart. _At last, I stopped rolling. He lifted his head and looked down into my eyes, detecting the hint of playfulness.

"You did that on purpose," he correctly accused, trying in vain to suppress his huge grin. I tousled his hair with a hearty chuckle.

"Yes, I did. What are you going to do about it, Patches?" I challenged. His face blanked and he gently climbed off me, his eyes steady on the ground.

"N-Nothing." I lifted my eyebrows and sat up.

"What do you mean, 'nothing'?" He gave a small shrug like it was obvious.

"You outrank me," he said softly. "I can't do anything." I moved closer to him and draped an arm over his shoulders.

"In the castle, yes, but out here when it's just the two of us, no. We're playing, Patch; you can mess with me if you want to." A moment of silence passed as he thought this over.

"B-But I _don't_ want to mess w-with you." He raised his gaze to meet my eyes. "I-I'll get in t-trouble." I didn't follow. Even between the two of us, was he afraid to have a little rough fun? I eyed the silver band hugging his neck, that hated piece of metal I blamed for crippling his sense of self-worth.

"Patches, can I ask you a serious question?" He nodded, giving me his full attention. "Why do you still wear that thing?" His eyes darted around uneasily and I suddenly felt like I had embarrassed him.

"I-I can't take it off," he admitted sadly. "Master Aro says it's too close to try to rip off. Th-The only way i-is to…is to…" He raised his hands next to his ears and imitated twisting his own head off. My eyes widened, crestfallen that he suggested such a horrifying idea.

"That won't ever happen," I said solidly. "I don't even want you to think about it, okay?"

"Okay." He touched my hand on his shoulder. "It's not so bad," he added with a weak smile. "I'm so used to it; sometimes I forget it's there." I knew what he meant and the truth of it nearly crushed me. The inescapable relic of his dark past had become a part of him, shaping not only his personality but his perception of himself. Out of pure instinct, I leaned over and locked him in a strong embrace, determined to hold onto him until the end of time. Dry tears threatened to well up in my eyes.

"You're brave," I whispered huskily into his ear, glad that he couldn't see my face struggling to stay strong as I looked over his shoulder. "You're so brave."

**Patches' POV**

_Brave. _He called me brave! I patted him on the back to tell him that it was okay and he shouldn't feel sorry for me anymore. "Thanks. You're brave too." It was true; I've never known anyone to stand up for what he thought as boldly as Ethan. He never backed out of a fight either. A few years ago, Santiago challenged him to a wrestling match for rights over a DVD player. Ethan won, and within the hour introduced me to the classic film _Heidi_. It's an emotional one about a girl with no parents who tries to make friends with her grandfather because he needs one and then gets taken away to the city to be some crippled girl's pet-child because she has no friends either, and finally returns to her grandfather's house because she misses him and the landscape. That's about it—I liked it a lot.

Ethan pulled away at last and looked up at the sky. "What do you think is beyond the stars?" That was a curious question for him to ask.

"Heaven," I sincerely responded. "Heaven is up there."

"Well, if it really exists, then you deserve it." He took my hand and stroked his thumb across the top. "I'm just sorry that I can't give you that kind of paradise." I blinked at him with astonishment.

"But you did." His lips twitched as if he wanted me to argue my point. "That place, the one in all silver and white—that's what Heaven is supposed to be like!"

"Isn't there also something about a golden gate?" He had me there. I sighed and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Truthfully, I'm not a big fan of gates." He smiled and then broke into a happy laugh, tilting his blonde head back as he did so.

"You're adorable," he murmured, partly to himself. If my cheeks could turn pink, they would be bright red by now. I breathed in the crisp evening air and exhaled with a smile. The world was ours; we could run around like crazy people if we wanted to. The hills in the distance looked so inviting, but eventually they would cross over the Volterra border off our city's land. But I didn't want to think about that right now.

"Do you want to play a game?" I blurted out all of the sudden.

"Sure. Whatever you'd like." Hmm, I didn't know too many games except the ones from my early childhood.

"Uhm, Hide and Go Seek?" He nodded.

"Yeah, but just in this region, okay? Anywhere after the first street is off-base."

"Got it. You count first to, uhm, fifty." Smiling, he released my hand and put his arm up to his eyes as a blindfold.

"One, two, three, four, five…" I took off running toward the town since it was the only place with all the hiding spots. Before the first street, I came across a quaint little store with a sign that said "Curio Shop" on the front. Dozens of little exotic figurines stared at me through the window, beckoning me to look inside. I crept along the side of the building and hid behind a couple of empty trash cans. Peeking inside, I saw a whole wall of calendars and postcards with beautiful pictures of the world's wonders on them. Lovely rainforests and waterfalls that looked so real, I could almost sense the moisture practically dripping out of the photo. A Chinese calendar had pictures of delightfully decorated dishes and bowls in them; sometimes they were drawings of strange-looking animals. Another calendar had a chuck of ice on a mountain with the title "Mt. Everest". The sights from these multiple locations must really be something to behold if people had to take pictures of them. Would it really be so bad to want to travel and see the world? I decided that I would tell Master Aro about my wish someday soon. Surely, he'd understand, having seen so much of the world himself.

"Found you," Ethan declared from between the trash cans. I flinched at the sound of his voice. He caught me looking through the window and glanced inside himself, his eyes burning with disappointment when he realized what I was thinking.


	13. Confessions

**Narrator's POV**

Patches glanced between Ethan's smoldering stare and the intangible pictures of his greatest fantasies, knowing what it meant for him as a Volturi guard. "D-Don't be mad," he pleaded, his huge eyes wide with fear. "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not mad at _you_," came Ethan's cold reply. "I should have seen it coming since you admitted that you wanted to travel." His lips curled into a tight frown. _Stupid_, he chastised himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. He already came so far in their relationship; the last thing he wanted was a reason to kill his best friend and possible future mate. "You want to leave your coven; is that it?"

"No! I-I-It's not like that!" Patches stuttered in his defense, his voice raised in alarm. "I just want—" Ethan flicked his hand to cut him off.

"Come on. We're going back to the castle." Without another word, he snatched the younger boy's hand and compulsorily hauled him all the way back to their grand residence. Patches made no protest but took a great deal of time looking around the city and memorizing how everything looked from the inside. His eyes darted around to the alleyways, the store windows, the town homes and their backyards, the restaurants that had such delicious smells, everywhere but his persistent guide. When he kept stumbling, Ethan scooped him up in his arms again, only this time his touch was colder, his hold more buckling than cradling. Neither of them said a word until they were greeted at the castle doors by none other than the youngest male of the Upper Guard.

"About time you two returned," Alec said irritably, more annoyed than relieved at the boys' advent.

"We're early, as a matter of fact," Ethan replied in a fallaciously pleasant tone. "Is the throne room _occupied_?" "Occupied" was a code word for a Volturi leader's presence.

"Yes, all three." Alec's metallic gaze shifted from Ethan to Patches who was still locked in the blonde's secure arms. He scoffed with disapprobation. _How weak_."They'll be glad to see you," he added with a dark hint in his tone. "Today has been rather uninteresting."

"Thank you." With that, Ethan continued to navigate the fortress to its center headquarters and pushed the door open with his back. The three vampire kings adjusted their positions to address the newcomers.

"My, my! Back so soon, dear ones?" Aro inquired with a bright grin. His ancient fiery eyes marveled at the younger boy being carried bridal style. "I do hope nothing serious occurred over the first date." Ethan put Patches down at the comment and the pair dropped a bow. "We weren't expecting you for another few hours. To what do we owe this early arrival?" Ethan said nothing, his telltale glance at his companion already speaking volumes. Aro gestured for both of them to come closer and stood up to take Patches' hand. Two seconds let him see into the last two weeks of his thoughts, the latest ones clearer than the others. He let him go after that, for anything too far back disturbed him at an uncomfortable level. His expression fades from cheery to solemn. "What I am seeing in your thoughts, do you deny any of this?" Patches shook his head.

"No, sir." Aro returned to his throne, glancing at his brothers in turn.

"It appears one of our Guard wishes to leave Volterra," he announced with a soft, calm, and utterly disappointed voice.

"Kill him already," Caius growled, leaning back with boredom. "He knows the penalty for such treason."

"I think not, Brother," Marcus spoke up from Aro's right. "His loyalties have not changed in the least over the past twenty years and still holds true."

"In that circumstance, I see no crime here. We cannot issue a penalty without a cause, Caius."

"So are we to just sit back and watch his intentions unfold, Brother?" The belligerent blonde argued.

"Not without cause," Aro repeated, exerting his authority in his response. His eyes traveled back to the boy in question. "Have you anything to say on your own behalf?" Patches swallowed nervously, visibly shaking as his masters talked over his fate.

"I don't w-want to l-leave the Volturi," he answered meekly. "I just want t-to travel…s-see the rest of the world…j-just once."

"Might I ask what inspired this desire of yours?" Aro very rarely felt any sympathy for his guards and their silly wishes, but Patches was special—his special little foundling that proved to be one of the most unselfish, hardworking, and devoted members the Volturi had ever seen. Even though his power of elemental manipulation was next to useless on a battlefield, he outweighed nearly the entire Lower Guard combined in personality. Along with Patches, Alec, and Jane, only the naturally loyal individuals were spared from Chelsea's spirit-draining power.

"W-We get tourists from all over, a-and once in a while I f-find a map o-of a foreign land on the ground, and I p-pick it up. Big mountains a-and whole oceans—all things I've heard about…but n-never seen." Aro nodded.

"I understand. Do you know why you are not allowed to leave the castle grounds, Patches?" The boy's lips twitched, his head drooping forward as if the burden of the answer was weighing him down.

"Because I'm safe here," came his simple response.

"That is one of the factors, yes." Aro cupped the boy's chin in his hand and brought it up to ensure he was listening. "This castle is your sanctuary and protects you from harm and shelters you from the weather." Everyone in the Volturi knew what he meant by "weather". "Your friends and fellow coven members live here to keep you company." It was true that he had a few friends and acquaintances, but he unfortunately had little time to spend with them. "You never have to hunt for your own meals." Every feeding period was a laid-out buffet for the Guard. Any nomad vampire had a harder time of snatching up prey without detection, especially since so many of them travel in large groups. "You will never suffer at the cruelty of humans again." Patches' face crumbled on the surge of tears at the mention of his haunted past and despondently nodded in Aro's hand, fully persuaded.

"I know, Master. I'm sorry." Aro released his hold on his chin and petted his hair in gentle, even strokes.

"You are forgiven my dear boy, but consider this your warning. I'm afraid action _will_ be taken the next time these fantasies of yours arise."

"Yes, Master. I understand."

"Good boy. You are dismissed." Patches dropped another obeisance and quickly exited the room, feeling nothing but thankful for walking out with his life. _Master Aro is right_, he told himself as he climbed the stairs up to his room. _I should be more grateful. _

**Aro's POV**

I knew this moment would come eventually. It was only a matter of time before his sense of curiosity for what he had been denied his whole life welled inside him. Still, I couldn't lose him as a guard; he knew too much of our coven's secrets to be let out, so vulnerable to attack. "It was your job to keep him happy here." Ethan bowed his head apologetically.

"I apologize, Master. He was supposed to love _me _on our vacation, _not_ the atmosphere."

"Perhaps you'll take his worthy punishment for him, hmm?" Caius threatened, already rising from his throne. I swept my gaze over my left shoulder.

"Peace, Brother. There is still time to correct what has been done." I touched my temple with a finger, thinking of the appropriate course of action. I had many means of persuasion in my repertoire, but only a small fraction of them would do me any good with Patches. "This is a rather…_unorthodox_ approach, but I think the time has come for a firm push of discomfort by promoting him to patrol. Under the right circumstances, he'll realize that the outdoors is no place for him, that only inside will he be safe." I fixated my eyes on Ethan. "You realize what I am asking of you?" He bowed with a knowing smile.

"I do, Master." I gave him a curt nod of approval.

"Off you go, then." My eyes followed him out the door, observing his strong, steady gait. He knew better than to fail me. Caius huffed a breath as he sat back down, evidently disappointed in my judgment.

"My respect for you falters, Aro," he blatantly stated. "Your command over the Guard weakens with every ounce of mercy you feed that pathetic—"

"He is _not _pathetic," I growled back defensively. Yes, Patches did have his weak points; however, they were greatly outweighed by his admirable qualities. "He demonstrates true loyalty as well as our dear Jane and Alec. You force your hand-picked guards to respect you because you feel that earning it is much too time consuming." Unabashed by Caius's seething glare, I took my seat with a triumphant smile.

'I'm afraid Caius is correct, Aro," said Marcus who hadn't yet spoken. "Your relationship bonds are significantly stronger in the boy than in the rest of the Lower Guard. Your favoritism is becoming evident to the rest of our coven." I tried to deny any such favoritism, but my mind refused to be tricked by such futile deception. Like my prized twins whom I had rescued from the flames of death, my third salvaged child occupied a special place in my thoughts. I felt solely responsible for his wellbeing and ensured that he would have everything he could need to be happy. To punish him for the inevitable would be punishing myself.

"Let it then, but do know that I am fairly just with all who disobey the law. That, Brother, will never waver." Marcus made no further remarks, and I couldn't tell whether he believed my words to be true or silently doubted me. I sincerely hoped that I would not have to resort to corrective punishment, but if Patches refuses to heed my warning, I would have no other choice.

The double doors opened, followed by a clicking of heeled shoes as the current secretary entered, brandishing a letter before my eyes. I thanked her and opened the envelope, already naming the dispatcher by the enclosed scent wafting above the parchment. "Aha, it's from Jane," I announced happily. So my mission party presented me with news at last! I read the letter's contents, my lips progressively stretching into a wider grin the further I went. "Delightful news, my brothers: they have been tracing a nomadic pair of vampires around the Olympian territory with unusually powerful gifts. From their observations, the couple's addition to the Volturi would forevermore distinguish us as the unquestionable rulers of our kind. "My dear," I addressed the secretary at my disposal. "Reply to the sender enclosing two invitations. I would very much like to meet these _exceptional ones_."

**Ethan's POV**

I left the throne room, feeling hot in the face as I reached the basement where only I knew were the cloaks of various blacks and greys. I had to be wary of Patches now; I would to do everything in my power to keep him from the death sentence. He had a good soul and was fairly intelligent. The real enemy was his wandering imagination. If Aro's idea of a promotion stemmed his positive thoughts of the outdoors, then his problem would be solved. I came to the secret closet in the darkest corner of the basement and sifted through the racks to find a darker grey cloak worthy of a patrol guard. The material of the darker one looked newer than the lighter grey cloak Patches wore with the added decoration of a hood in the back to block the garish sunrays of the daytime.

When I emerged from the basement, I found my friend already at work fixing the lighting of a chandelier and approached the base of the ladder. He glanced down at me while screwing in a light bulb, his eyes bereft of their usual cheerful glow. "Hey," he said in monotone without so much as a smile.

"Hey buddy. I have something for you." His glance lowered to the bundle of dark grey draped over my arm and turned back to his light bulbs. He screwed in another one and tucked the dead bulbs in a pocket of his cloak to dispose of them later. "Will you come down?" He did with no indication that he heard me and moved to the light switch, checking the effectiveness of the new bulbs. When he saw that they all functioned properly, he wordlessly picked up the ladder, folded it up, and began to carry it back to the utility closet. His silence bothered me, even more so because I knew that I was partly at fault for upsetting him. I let out a sigh and proceeded to tail him to where he put away his tools. "Patches, talk to me." He refused to meet my eyes but nevertheless answered to my command.

"What do you want?" he moaned, clearly not in the mood to see me. I held the cloak out to him.

"Try this on for size." He threw me a questioning look as he took the garment from me and switched it out. The one I brought him fit him nicely, looking sharper in contrast to his chalky pale skin. "Very nice! It's for you," I explained with a smile, scooping up his old cloak to put back in the closet. His eyes widened with a bit of a shock.

"F-For _me_?" I nodded, excited for him.

"Aro wished to award your honesty by promoting you to a patrol guard. Naturally, you'll need a cloak fitting to your new position." He gasped with amazement and fervently buttoned himself inside his gift.

"I love it, Ethan! This is—" He froze with a sudden realization. "Wait, wh-who's going to take care of the castle for me?"

"I will, along with another lower guard, I suppose." In truth, I had no idea who was to be the replacement for Patches' old position. I didn't know of anyone who could clean off the blood from the floor like him. A sudden suspicion seized my thoughts. _Wait a minute…_ "Patches, do you remember how spotless the throne room floor was?" He returned my astonished glance and nodded.

"Yeah. S-Someone _else_ did my job!" We guards knew what it meant when such an occurrence happened: someone was about to get replaced.


	14. When New Monsters Arise

**Patches' POV**

I couldn't stop myself from hyperventilating. The possibility of being discarded to make room for a more promising vampire all seemed too real. It was bad enough that I had to throw away all of the travel pamphlets I saved up in my room—now I had to override my competition too?! Ethan took me to the garden bench and tried his best to calm me down. "For goodness's sake, take it easy!" he exclaimed, half laughing. My hands flew to the sides of my head, locking down protectively over my hair.

"I don't want to die, Ethan! I'm too young; I haven't seen an active volcano yet!" _Yet…Oops. _"N-No, I-I didn't mean—"I began to rephrase when Ethan put a finger to my lips.

"If I see a painting of a volcano to add to our art gallery, I can buy it for you," he said with a warning glare in his eyes. There was no way to avoid the consequences; these exploratory thoughts would have to stop. My breathing rate remained sky high; there didn't seem to be enough air getting in my lungs between breaths. "Will you calm down already? You just received a promotion! You'll be expected to start your rounds in a couple hours." I leapt off the bench.

"A couple of hours?!" I shrieked. "That's not enough time. I don't even know the first thing about patrol!" Ethan stood up as well to be more or less eyelevel. His voice stayed cool and confident.

"It's easy. All you have to do is walk along the border of the city, go down some streets, and look for suspicious activity that goes against our laws."

"A-And if I _do _see anything?" I prompted. Ethan laughed.

"Well, _then _you're going to have to kill the bastard, or bring him here for a more formal execution." My face fell. Ethan knew with absolute certainty that I couldn't fight someone if I tried. More likely than not, I'd die first, and then I would be a disgrace to the coven name. His hand came up and playfully pressed itself against my cheek. "But I'm sure that won't happen. No decent or experienced vampire would dare cross this city unless they _want_ to die. Stupid, ignorant newborns—if anything—and we haven't had one of those in years." That statistic made me feel a lot better. Somehow, Ethan always knew exactly what to say.

"Thanks." He patted my head.

"You'll be just fine," he assured me.

"I hope so."

"I have faith in you, Patches."

"I know, Ethan." There was nothing more to be said, so I returned to my room to listen to some music on my phonograph to pass the time. I sifted through my records until I came across one I haven't heard in a while and put it on the track: "St. Elmo's Fire" by John Parr. I wanted it to distract my mind, but listening to the lyrics only made it worse.

"Growin' up, you don't see the writin' on the wall," the husky voice sang. "Passin' by, movin' straight ahead you knew it all." I moved to the window beside my bed and looked out, smiling at the people below me. "But maybe sometime if you feel the pain, you'll find you're all alone; everything has changed." I did feel alone, just a little bit. Ethan said he loved me but didn't even support me when I told him what I wanted for myself. The cloak he gave me made me feel a little better since I didn't have to do all the housework anymore. Still, it felt foreign—like it wasn't for me.

"Play the game. You know you can't quit until it's won," the music continued. "Soldier on. Only you can do what must be done. You know in some way you're a lot like me. You're just a prisoner and you're tryin' to break free!" Looking out from the inside, I couldn't face the music for it was all too true. No matter what, I _did _dream of exploring the rest of the planet; I would dream and fantasize to the madness! _But that would kill you_, my inner voice warned. A small whimper escaped my throat, arising from the constant reminder that I was under a direct order.

"I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky. I'll be where the eagle's flyin' higher and higher. Gonna be your man in motion. All I need is a pair of wheels. Take me where my future's lyin': St. Elmo's Fire!" Oh, I'd be in fire, all right. I've seen what becomes of a vampire that breaks the law—they always end up in flames. There was a sudden rapping on my chamber door. I turned off the music and opened it to reveal an unexpressive Alec.

"This is your route," he said gruffly, pushing a marked map to my chest, urging that I take it. I opened it up and saw a dark blue marker line sketch around the perimeter of the city and down a couple streets; both ends leading back to the castle. "Follow it and keep to yourself. I suggest you start early since this is your first time." I thanked him and followed him out, taking another look at my map before tucking it in my overcoat for safekeeping.

Passing through the castle to the main doors, I heard a male scream from the corridor that set my teeth on edge. I wasn't sure why, but I had to see what was going on. This wasn't a scheduled execution—I always got a message in advance when there was to be a killing so that I could plan ahead to stay out of earshot. I traced the echo to the throne room and peeked inside. Master Caius stood on the steps directing a punishment for a lower guard I recognized as one of the errand-runners that conduct business outside the castle grounds. He was on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, clenched into tight fists. The torturer was…Carly. She looked different—darker, colder—but it was her. Her eyes burned with an intense red flame; her mouth aggressively bared two rows of sharp teeth; her hair was bunched behind her shoulders as if it was afraid to dare get in her face. She was frightening, but twice as beautiful as before when she was human. She had her hands on the guard's cheeks, scorching them with her intense power. He screamed for her to stop, but there was no pity or remorse in her stony eyes. "That'll do," Master Caius ordered in a satisfied tone. "Perhaps next time you will think before using the coven's money for your personal expenses."

I couldn't look anymore and hurried out the double doors before anyone saw me. I pulled out the map and quickly headed left as the line indicated. I had to get out of there and into the fresh outside that bloomed with life. My hand pulled up my cloak hood before the sun came out, the material sitting nicely on my head. Walking to the very border of the city, I passed rows of houses neatly lined side by side and small children playing in the empty streets and their backyards. A small family in a window hugged as one group, each wishing the others a good day at school or work. I had to stop and stare for just a moment at the identical smiling faces full of love and support. _Maybe that's what real families do._

As the streets began to fill with the regular hustle and bustle of the day, I took off jogging to the countryside away from the city life. Here were the open fields Ethan introduced me to: green grass, lush foliage, wide open blue sky, peace. I felt at peace here with no rules or noise to limit my imagination. In fact, the grass looked so inviting that I took pleasure in rolling down a few hills, not caring who saw if anybody. A new confidence rose inside of me, filling me with pride and bliss. I gradually continued curbing my path to the right all day long without a single vampire in sight. No trouble, just a long walk around town. I could get used to this. By evening, it was time to return home. I was in the alleyway by sundown, sighing with relief at the end of an easy day.

The humans were settling in for the night, rejoining their families and eating supper together around one table—the way it should be. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I picked up the warm aromas of barbeque ribs, grilled chicken, marinara sauces, and freshly baked baguettes, and—my eyes popped open. There was another smell around this area that shouldn't be here. It had a musty, earthy scent that could only belong to a nomad vampire. I looked this way and that for the intruder's face while simultaneously piecing together what would I say when I found it. Other guards had to be around somewhere; maybe I could scare it to move on and fall into someone else's territory and let them handle the kill. Following the scent to a dark strip of pavement, the unwelcome figure came into view. It sat on top of a building, and there was fresh blood upon its face. Catching my stare, it turned its head in my direction and jumped down to my level. "Ahhh…" it moaned, satisfied with its kill. It was a full grown male with black hair, toned arms, and burgundy eyes. I bared my teeth and emitted a low, rumbling growl, clenching my fists and standing tall.

"Did you just kill in this city?" I inquired in my most demanding voice, trying to imitate Master Caius who had the scariest voice I know. The stranger wasn't afraid in the least of me and actually smiled!

"I might have. Why?" He looked me over with that same confident smile.

"You just committed a serious crime," I growled, showing my teeth. "And you'll pay for it with your demise." The vampire raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Really? How do you plan to kill me if you're afraid?" I pressed my lips together. He knew something, and it was not good. Unabashed, I stared him down in defiance.

"I'm not afraid of you. _You _should be feeling afraid of _me_." To my annoyance, the man just scoffed, showing his very white teeth.

"Please, I smell the fear in you. You give me no reason to be afraid." I wasn't about to back down, so I leapt behind him and secured his hands behind his back, the first step of most executions. The next thing, I knew, he shook me off and I fell flat on my stomach too weak to get up. I lifted my gaze to see the man's chuckling smile as he held up a small white orb balancing in his palm. "You see this?" he asked. "This is you. If I decide to crush this, you'll lose half of your soul." _What?! _He had to be bluffing…but he couldn't be. My physical strength had been drained and the white ghost-like entity didn't appear to be like anything else in the world but a soul. "I don't want to destroy it, but I will if you obligate me." I hated feeling helpless, but at this point, I had no other option. Whimpering for mercy, I dropped my head.

His footsteps circled my body, still carrying the orb with him. I could feel the satisfaction radiating off his grin, but when he spoke, no pride could be found in his voice. "So this is the real you, the one behind the threats." His hand grabbed the collar of my cloak from behind and lifted my chest off the ground, his other hand pushing the orb into where my heart was. I felt my strength return to me but the shame of my defeat kept me flat on the ground. I already knew I couldn't fight for my life; why did I think it would be of any use to me to try? The other vampire lifted me into a sitting position and whispered in my ear, "I'll tell you a secret: having pride as your only guide is the worst thing if you're blinded by it. There's no need to feel shame." I said nothing, not in the mood to talk to him. I refused to even look him in the eye. "If it makes you feel any better, I just fed from the next town over, not this one. I know your laws." I glanced at him with a perplexed expression. This guy was unbelievable. He took something from his pocket and held it in front of my eyes. I recognized it as an official invitation to Volterra signed by Master Aro. This vampire was no intruder; he came as a guest. "I had been hoping to reach the address here by this afternoon with my wife, but we split up to hunt and I had no luck finding her." I sighed, knowing what I had to do next. When it came to special visitors, the Masters never liked to be kept waiting.

"She'll most likely already be waiting for you at the castle," I guessed, standing up. "I'm going there now; I can escort you." He smiled and stood up to his full height.

"Thank you," he said with appreciation. "My name is Angel, by the way. Rose is my wife, when you meet her." I said nothing, merely gesturing for him to follow me. _Please don't ask it._ "What is your name?" _There it is. _I heaved a sigh and started walking so that I wouldn't have to face him.

"I'm called Patches," I murmured. "It's a nickname." I heard his light chuckle from behind me.

"Well, Patch, I'm sure the Volturi are lucky to have you." I couldn't tell whether he was sarcastic or genuine.

"What do you mean?"

"Souls have colors or shades to them that reflect the characteristics of their owners. Black is evil, red is fury and anger…but yours, yours is as white as the purest cloud in the sky. You're a good vampire—unadulterated in heart and soul." His words repeated over and over in my head as we made our way back to the castle. I saw the hulking form of Felix at the front just inside the door. The mission party came back. I led Angel to the throne room where I was sure Master Aro would be. Sure enough, he was in the room standing next to an unfamiliar woman with shoulder-length ebony hair and a tall curvy figure. "Rose," Angel whispered, indicating the woman.

"What a happy surprise," Master Aro smiled, nodding his approval to me and then to Angel in welcome. "We have recovered our missing guest at last." Angel crossed over to Rose's side and whispered something in her ear. I caught her eyes on me and felt small in her gaze given her height. A small smile appeared on her lips, casting her silent appreciation. "Thank you, Patches. You are dismissed for the night." My attention snapped back to Master Aro. By the tone in his voice, I could tell he had plans for our guests that would cover well into morning. I bowed myself out and left to retire to my bedroom. I couldn't wait to tell Ethan about how much I loved my new promotion. If he knew that I was happy just being outside during the day, he'd stop worrying about my traveling wish and we could have fun times again. I reached the top of the stairs and looked inside my room and down the hallways; he wasn't there. At this time of the day, he would be in his own room anyway. I knocked twice on the door.

"Ethan?" There was no answer. I gingerly turned the handle and peeked inside. His room was gone. The television set, all of his decorations, his bed coverings, and any inkling of personality he put into this room…was gone. I began to hyperventilate again, my breathing spiking heart attack speeds, fearing the worst. _He _was gone.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello, all! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, because No. Fifteen is already underway! I'd like to thank Luis Alfredo Campos Sylvester (Luis) for permitting me to use his characters in this story. Both Angel and Rose are entirely of Luis's creation and I give him all due credit. The song referenced to in this chapter is "St. Elmo's Fire" sung by John Parr. If you're excited for the next chapter or want to let me know how I am doing, leave me a review at the bottom and have an awesome day!**


	15. Peace of Mind

**Narrator's POV**

If a vampire could faint, Patches would be in a coma sprawled across the front of what used to be Ethan's old doorway for goodness knows how long. Ethan was his sanctuary, his companion, and his very best friend. The thought alone of losing him was heart-crushing. He hadn't seen him after the throne room meeting, which meant that the three leaders must know where he could be. Aro, Patches knew, was entertaining at the moment and would send him away with a scolding if he interrupted the visit. Caius was out of the question entirely, which left Marcus as his only lifeline. Pulling himself together on the chance that Ethan switched rooms or another sort of misunderstanding, he located Marcus's study and knocked on the door as gently as he could so that he wouldn't sound too urgent. "Come in," came the leader's solemn, monotone voice. The boy quickly entered and shut the door. Marcus was reading a poetry treasury from his desk and immediately sensed the panic in his eyes. "What is troubling you, Patches?"

"I c-can't f-find Ethan. D-Do you know wh-where he is?" Marcus bookmarked the treasury and set it on his desk. One look at the child's lost, imploring face and he predicted what the impact of the answer would have on his allegiance to the Volturi.

"Come here, my boy," the ancient replied, gesturing for him to stand right beside him. "I'm afraid Ethan is no longer with us. A vote was cast and the verdict was not in your favor. It was, however, in the best interest of the Volturi as a whole that he should depart." Any ounce of professionalism and restraint in Patches was ousted along with the last shred of hope he clung onto. He closed his eyes and began to cry, not with shaky whimpers of fear, but with great immense sobs of true lament. Marcus expected this reaction and stood up to pat him on the back. "I know this is hard for you, but you must learn to move on. It is what he would have wanted." Patches heard the words but refused to listen to them, his face buried in his trembling hands. Marcus pitied the poor boy having lost a loved one himself, and could find no words of solace to sugarcoat the damage that had been done. "I'm sure I will be expected to meet the new arrivals," he informed. "In the meantime, I know someone very close to Aro that will be able to help you."

"N-Not Chelsea," Patches choked out between sobs. "P-Please n-not Chelsea…" It was a blessing that he initially had the loyalty to rule out the Volturi linchpin's powerful mind-bending effect. In a matter of a couple minutes, any newborn sent to Chelsea would have their minds pruned and resorted like an unruly hedge. The branches—connection and relationships—to anyone that stood in the way of the Volturi's place at first priority, would be cut off and repressed from memory. Chelsea could additionally alter the perception of other individuals to create a false sense of loyalty. She could make her victim feel inferior to anyone she chose to force unjustified respect and obedience. A few moments with Patches and he would lose every recollection of Ethan as if he never existed. She could numb his feelings and emotions along with his pain and sadness so that he couldn't love anymore. He would be a true monster then, and he would lose everything he had left.

"Indeed not, dear boy. Let us go to Aro's study, shall we?" Marcus crossed to the door with a hand on the small of the boy's back, gently guiding him out and down the corridor to his coven brother's study. Aro was not present; in his place sat Renata organizing old mission files for the records. She formally stood up at the sight of Marcus in the doorway and immediately furrowed a brow in concern for the distressed guard standing next to him. "Renata, would you please comfort Patches for me? He is going through a great loss."

"Of course, Master," she said, taking Patches' wrist and leading him deeper into the room. Marcus thanked her and returned to his private quarters. Renata moved the documents on the desk aside and sat the considerably young vampire into a leather armchair. Although they rarely saw each other being on two sides of the coven's spectrum, she would always remember that same sweet face from twenty years ago. "I'm sorry for your loss," she breathed, partly of genuine sympathy and partly of employing a solace mechanism.

"H-He was my b-best friend," he sobbed with no sign of letting up. "I'll n-never see him again!"

"Shh," she hushed softly, rubbing his shoulders. "It's okay, Patches. There's a time to say goodbye for everything."

"How can it be okay?!" he demanded, looking her full in the face. Renata sighed and pulled up a chair next to him.

"Because Ethan did it for you. He left for _you_." Patches thought about what she meant and drew a hopeless blank. What did Ethan need to sacrifice himself for?

"What do you mean?"

"He was given a choice to make after his mistake, neither option pleasant. When Aro saw what happened after your day, well…" she hesitated, yet felt the obligation to finish. Patches needed to have closure. "Someone had to be punished. He wouldn't let you take any blame for your thoughts; he took it all himself." The boy continued to weep, shaking under the emotional buildup.

"But _why?!_" he lashed out, shouting in frustration."Why is it so wrong to dream of what's out there?!"

She sighed as if she was a mother explaining tax exemption to a six year old. "Patches, you need to look at the big picture. Take yourself out of the issue for a moment; you aren't the only one who's gotten the itch to leave." That last part made him a little better for the time being. _Not the only one,_ he repeated in his thoughts. _Not alone. _"Let us assume for a moment that you are the fourth coven leader." He cracked a slight smile.

"Me, ruling a whole world of vampires?" He chuckled. "Good one."

"Not literally, silly. Try to see the scenario from a higher point of view. Now, what is the most important purpose of the Volturi?"

"T-To protect all vampires from human detection," he recited dutifully. Renata smiled.

"Correct. How do we make sure of that?"

"We have laws, a-and if anyone breaks them, they get punished."

"Very good. And why do we punish them, Patches? Why not give them a warning or a second chance?" The boy shifted uneasily in his seat.

"One mistake is one mistake too many," he declaimed in the same tone Aro used when he taught him the laws. "A pardon allows more room for error; only through execution will justice and safety be restored without jeopardy." Renata nodded.

"Exactly. Not to mention that we uphold a precedent for every other member of our species. If we show mercy to one, then others might feel that they could commit the same offence without reprimand." She paused to let that sink in. "Do you understand now?" Patches dejectedly nodded.

"Yes…but what does this have to do with Ethan? H-He did nothing wrong!"

"He made the mistake of letting you leave the castle grounds, knowing that you'd only want more of the outside despite your responsibility to the coven." Frustration began to cloud his mind like the thickest fog.

"That was _my _mistake! _I'm _the one who should be punished, not him!" The other vampire loftily swung one leg over the other and rested her hands in her lap. When she spoke again, her tone was grave.

"That's just it, Patches. Losing Ethan _is _your punishment. The choice was between Caius and Chelsea 'fixing' you so that you couldn't physically or mentally leave, and Ethan sacrificing his presence in the Volturi to spare both your existence and mind." Waves of emotion flooded him with a fresh burst of sobs, overcome by the noble, merciful sacrifice he could never repay. Now he knew what he meant to Ethan, how much he loved him…like a true mate. Ethan denied the notion before, but now it all made sense! According to rumors he heard about mates, the connection between vampire lovers was so strong that when one died, the other would be doomed to a barren existence of misery and mourning, bereft of joy and love forever.

"I just want him back." Renata could see that he needed a distraction, something to keep his mind occupied until the shock wore off. She thought about what Aro did in his spare time whenever he needed a break and got an idea.

"Have you ever played a musical instrument before?" Patches glanced at the wall, tapping into his long-term memory.

"I played the pipe organ once when I was little, around six years old I think."

"Would you like to try a grand piano? I can teach you the basics." A glimmer of light twinkled in his glistening eyes.

"Okay," he murmured, just above a whisper. Renata smiled and took his hand, leading him to the door. He walked behind her to the music room where all of the instruments were stored: violins, violas, cellos, basses, a harp, a flute, and a grand ebony piano dominating the center of the room. Every other week, he came to this room to polish all of them, but never to play them. The two vampires sat down on the piano bench, their gazes sweeping over the ivory keys. Renata reached out a hand and hit a note in the middle of the keyboard.

"That is center C," she reminded him. "Put your right thumb on C and let your other fingers rest over the adjacent keys." He did as she asked and watched as she played another note three white keys to the left of C. "This is G, where your left thumb should be." Once both hands were in position, he played a simple scale, distant memories of his organ lessons returning to him.

"Do you have any sheet music?" he asked. Renata smiled and stood up.

"Right under your seat. Aro's selections are primarily classical era, though. He doesn't have much interest for contemporary symphonies." Patches came around the bench and lifted the leather cushion, revealing three high binder stacks of sheet music transposed in various keys. He fingered through the papers until he found a piece he was familiar with: Johann Pachelbel's "Canon in D Major". "That one is a harmony accompaniment to the violin melody. I think the violin part is in the back." He opened the binder to the back and studied the violin piece. The violins played much faster than the piano part, but they only had one note to be played at a time.

"I can play them both," he decided, taking out the entire violin sheet music and setting it on the piano beside its harmony counterpart. Renata raised an amused eyebrow.

"Are you sure? You'd have to be able to read two sheets at once." He nodded and closed the bench to sit back down.

"I'm sure." While he warmed up with a few more scales and arpeggios, Renata retreated to a sofa along the wall to give him space. When she got comfortable, she heard him mouth "One, two, three, four" before he began the piece. He started out slow and careful like a child learning how to pedal a bicycle without training wheels for the first time. He soon picked up his speed as he added the melody of the violin, cooking up a sweet swirling sound on his solo duet. To Renata's happiness, his face gradually began to relax, his mind lost in that nostalgic spark of the musical language that spoke hidden words of solace to put his anxiety and sorrow at ease. He played both parts consistently until the end with few mistakes that only he detected. His posture, Renata noticed, was that of a natural pianist; his spine was completely erect, his elbows remained close to his torso, and his chin was lifted so that his eyes looked straight ahead at the music rather than the keys.

"You play beautifully," she remarked in awe. "We'll have to buy you a piano of your own." Patches closed the binder and glanced up at her.

"Oh, does this piano already belong to someone?"

"Yes. That is Aro's personal instrument." His face blanked, and as quick as a cheetah, he raced to a cabinet in the corner of the music room. "What are you doing?" He returned in a flash with a polishing cloth in his hand, immediately wiping down the keys.

"You should've told me that earlier; I would _never_ touch anything of his without his permission!"

"Did you like it while you were playing?" she prompted, surprised by his reaction.

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "I almost forgot how much I liked making my own music."

"Then he wouldn't mind," she assured him. "Besides," she added. "You're nearly as good as he is." He shook his head with a small snort and put away the cloth when he was finished.

"No, I'm not. He's had way more years of practice than me." He entertained himself with the thought and then reminded himself of whom he was talking to. As his personal guard, no one else—save for his wife and brothers—knew Aro better than she did: his schedule, his mannerisms, his interests, and his leisurely abilities. "Do you really think so?" She nodded without a shred of doubt.

"I do. Aro started playing only in the seventeenth century, but you mentioned playing as a child. Let me tell you a little secret: skills learned in your human years return much quicker than those picked up in your vampire existence. Like the mental state we change in, our human memories are locked inside us permanently. We only need a key to access them." He smiled at her words and she gladly returned it, happy that she fulfilled her duty of brightening his day. Her inborn sense of time told her that they had a couple hours left before the sunrise that spurred forward another day. "Are you ready for Day Two of your promotion?"

"Yeah, I like it. It's easier and more relaxing than my old position." _As long as I don't have to kill anyone, _he added to himself.

"That's good to hear. Just a tip, though: don't forget to bring a waterproof coat and galoshes tomorrow. The forecast predicts a seventy percent chance of a rainstorm."


	16. Rainstorm with a Chance of Hope

**Patches' POV**

_Not rain. Why rain?_ I groaned to myself as I trudged back to my room for protective gear. The very anticipation of a storm made me queasy, but then I got an idea. What if I rushed through my rounds and got back in time before anything started? It didn't seem likely, but at least that was a happy thought. I could use a few happy thoughts about now. When I opened my bedroom door, there was a record sitting on my bed with a note attached to it: _Dear Patches, This old record has been sitting on my bookshelf and I have no use for it anymore. Consider it a gift to you in hopes that you may find happiness even on the rainiest days. From, Marcus. P.S. Ethan suggested the first song for you moments before he left. _

I pressed my lips firmly together in the memory of my old friend and picked up the record. "Broadway Classics," I read aloud to myself. I knew Broadway was a North American business for live entertainment, but I hadn't the opportunity to see any productions. Master Aro sometimes went out for a play, musical, ballet, or opera—he even had an opera cape for such formal occasions—and came back with a playbill of the show. He had a special bookshelf in the library positively loaded with playbills…and it seemed for the longest time that those small booklets were as close as I was ever going to get to a real show. Until this beautiful black record. With two hands, I gingerly placed it on the phonograph and adjusted the needle, waiting for that pure, rich sound. I expected some man or woman's mature voice to sing poetically in elaborate verses. What I did not expect was the honest, simple song of an eleven year old girl.

"The sun will come out tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun." That voice—it sounded alien, from a different world that I have never known. "Just thinking about tomorrow clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow 'til there's none." A happy thought, a happy thought at last! "When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely, I just stick out my chin, and grin, and say…" An abrupt knock at the door was my cue to pause the song. As I took my time returning the needle to preserve the record, Alec let himself in. He was fully decked out in protective rain gear under his cloak, just in case. He clearly had no intention of getting a drop on him today.

"What are you doing in here?" he demanded, looking around my room and then at me. I opened my mouth to respond, but he seemed to be in a hurry. "Never mind. The Masters want you outside _now_, stressing that you start as soon as possible." Without another word, I struggled to pull the rubber boots over my usual ones and snatched my waterproof covering off its hanger before trailing Alec down to the front doors. It was still dim outside, but with a thin film of early morning light that descended upon the peaceful city. My first reaction was to glance up at the sky and count the clouds; so far, there were thirty-two clouds total—three stratus clouds much more immense and scarier than the others. All of them seemed to be hulking behind me, so I pressed on and started my route.

I was in a race against time and distance and every human in the city. I had to be fast and timely, yet appear as human as possible to blend in. Fortunately, I could get through the day without running if I walked fast enough, and that was exactly what I planned to do. In no less than five minutes, I marched my way through the cobblestone paths and up to the grassy hills where I could have my personal time with the skies and surrounding nature. The wind in the grass pointed downhill as if beckoning me to roll down the sides again, but I knew better. No matter what, I shall not waste time! Picking up a light jog, I trekked forward into the wind and concentrated on my goal, almost forgetting about the clouds now that they were behind me…for the time being.

**Angel's POV**

Aro gave us the grand tour of his castle as if he was trying to sell it to us—and in a way, he was. Rose and I heard some rumors of the Volturi prior to coming here, none of them pleasant except for how diligent and thorough they are in their work. The leaders were no exception; they were ruthless and selfish, holding a winning hand about ninety-nine percent of the time. There were only two ways that I knew of how to be the one percent, the one ahead of the game: kill yourself before the Volturi does, or have a power that goes right over their heads. At the moment, the three of us were in the sparring room with a defenseless and subconscious human victim. "Do you wish to see it again?"

The ancient vampire smiled behind his praying hands. "Yes. Just once more." I nodded to my wife, who bent down to the slumbering heap.

"Awake," she ordered into the human's ear. It moved a little, dazed eyes fluttering halfway open. Rose had the power of hypnosis, but on a more extreme level. Instead of playing on the power of suggestion, she had a special low tone in her voice that pierced straight through the willpower of any mind that hears it. Ultimately, she could get any human—or vampire or any other species with ears and a basic intelligence—to do anything she wanted. At a sideways glance, I caught the shiny glint of greed in Aro's eyes, for I could see his scheming intentions straight from the blackest depths of his soul. He wanted us no doubt, but Rose and I were not the type to succumb to dictators no matter how reasonable the offer. So we waited patiently for the opportune moment to leave, meanwhile wasting time entertaining the old psycho.

I swiftly neared the human and snatched its soul, causing it to fall limp and even more pathetic and helpless than it was before. The glowing ball in my hand shone a grayish silver hue with small streaks of red leaking from the middle. "Lust," I announced, tracing my finger over the vein-like marks. "From the center of this soul, romantic avarice taints the once white base. The sin of adultery darkens the color impure. From the look of things, this one has some repenting to do before the end of its time." I returned the soul back to the body, advancing slightly as it tried to scramble away. Aro laughed with dark humor.

"Remarkable! Such an extraordinary gift it is to expose one's innermost secrets at a single glance with such…judgment." I said nothing; he chose his words carefully as devious men do when they attempt persuasion. "You and your bride would make lovely additions to the coven."

"We're not interested," Rose blatantly answered. _No! _I screamed in my head as I threw her a heavy glare. _Why would you say that?! _

_I know what I'm doing_, her eyes told me. We both looked at Aro whose calm composure remained unabashed by the blunt decline. "Don't be irrational, dear one. I am aware of how resistant to change you are, and I expected refusal. But won't you _consider_ staying with us? Entertain the thought for another two days' time?" He glossed his order with a question mark, but it was no question that we had to spend two more suns in this immense fortress. I idly thought of that mousy kid who escorted me here. How the heck could he call this place his home?

**Narrator's POV**

Patches felt the wind run through his hair as he struggled not to burst into a run. He was more than halfway back to the castle when the oncoming storm breeze caught up with him. A threatening rumble growled at him from above, sending a clear chill down his spine. Tilting his head to the sky, he noticed that the three massive clouds grew heavier with moisture and greeted him with a single drop of rain on the center of his forehead. It was time to find shelter and the castle was too far away to make a clean—and dry—break. Just a little further down the path towards civilization was a playground that sat in a sea of woodchips. The play structure in itself offered some means of protection from rain, but it couldn't stand against rain blowing beneath it with the rolling wind.

He wasn't one to cut corners, but once he saw a lightning bolt flash no more than a mile away, he jumped with a sprint to the slides and nested under the sturdy slope. With precious little time left, he glanced down at the woodchips and hatched an idea to make a little wall to keep out the wind. Armful after armful, he dumped gatherings of the rounded splinters at the entrance of the cavity and built a mound halfway high. It was a modest mound that wouldn't hold back much, but it was better than nothing. A minute barely passed when he heard the audible plinking of raindrops tapping on the plastic slide, followed by another peal of thunder directly overhead. Patches curled himself into a tight ball with the back of his head against the base of the slide and whimpered into his knees.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the sounds of the storm grew louder and began to shake all over. _Think of a happy thought_, he advised himself, and tried to come up with a list of five things that he loved about his life. "I-I'm a Volturi guard," he stated aloud, considering his position a blessing. "I'm a f-fast learner. Uhm…I have a special p-power n-no one else has." He tries in vain to keep from shaking as he digs his mind for more. "I'm a h-hard worker." Phantom tears sting his eyes as he finds the last one. "I'm brave." He breaks down in silent sobs, thinking of Ethan and the last words he said to him. "I-I'm brave!" His face felt hot and flustered from holding so much pain and let it out in one volcano eruption of emotion. "Oh, Ethan!" he cried, closing his eyes to picture him better. At the very least, he'll always be alive and with him in his memories. "Come back to me somehow…I-I _love_ you!"

"Ssssssss," came a low hissing noise near the slide. His shoulders tensed, springing up to his ears at the dreaded sound. _Snake. _He lifted his head and peered all around him. Sure enough, a long scaly viper slithered into view only ten feet away from him. Even though its teeth could never pierce his skin should it dare bite, the very sight of one made him feel ill.

"Go away," he whimpered in a soft, helpless voice. "P-Please g-go away…" The snake turned its pointed head in his direction, its black beady eyes beastly and cruel. He made a motion to move away from the slide, but a thunderous sound from above anchored him where he lay. For the first time in a long while, he felt the painful combination of being both trapped and lonely. His friend made his hardships bearable before, but he was no longer around to comfort him. The snake glided closer to him, threatening to lunge. With a cry of pure terror, he leapt to his feet and bolted out of there into the stinging rain. He huddled his arms to his chest and didn't stop nor slow until he reached the front doors of the castle. He pulled on the handles and pushed against the crack, but the doors didn't budge an inch.

_Locked. _He looked around and saw some of the townspeople out and about with umbrellas. He couldn't make a scene here, so he snuck around the perimeter of the castle grounds and hopped a wall to the garden where he knew there was a back door. His boots splashed in the puddles, but he didn't care; no square inch of him remained dry at this point. He tried to slide the door open, but just as before, it wouldn't give entry. He tugged and tugged on the handle and began to cry in despair. He rapped his knuckles on the hard plastic on a prayer that someone would hear him.

**Angel's POV**

"And this," Aro announced as he swept an arm up to a frame on the wall. "This is Edvard Munch's 'The Scream'." After we were introduced to the other members of the castle, Aro thought it fitting to give Rose and I a private tour of his collections: foreign instruments, money from around the world, statues, jeweled amulets and crowns, and most recently, paintings. He was an insane collector, probably the biggest hoarder I've ever met. Owning things was a passion to him—to be able to call something "his". His unquenchable avarice made me sick. The most frightening collection was that of his precious Guard, the gifted and skilled vampires that were placed at the ancients' disposal. The Volturi crests that they wore branded them so that anyone could spot them from a distance and know exactly who they answered to. My eyes rolled up to the painting presented and gave it a good long look.

"Why is he screaming?" I asked. His lips stretched to a knowing, sinister grin.

"Because he is going insane. Munch was on the verge of a personal crisis and began to hallucinate. The sky turned to a bloody red, the water a black and blue cesspool, and then all at once he heard the one strident scream of nature that would last forever."

"So it's a small glimpse of Hell?" Rose casually inquired. Aro nodded.

"I believe so, yes." From somewhere above us and along the walls came an urgent tapping sound like someone knocking. Aro's grin disappeared for a moment; evidently, he heard it too. "Oh, don't mind that. It must be the rain throwing itself against the window glass." He could be right, but the tapping was rhythmic and never interrupted by an equal or greater sound.

"I'll go see what it is; it sounds suspicious to me." I left Rose's side and ran up the stairs to the back door. My jaw nearly dropped when I saw what it was. The little vampire boy pressed himself against the transparent door, now drenched in rainwater with the most petrified expression I've ever seen. The raindrops made it appear like he was crying real tears. How long had he been out here? I ran to him and threw open the door. With an innocent look of a newborn piglet, he burst inside and immediately wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Thank you!" he sputtered a sob as he clung to my chest. I held his shaking form and stroked his head to calm him down.

"Shh, it's alright now. You're safe," I assured him. Except I wasn't so sure. The rest of the Guard dwelled inside and yet I was the only one who gave this poor boy any attention? Footsteps carried up the stairs and soon I saw Aro and Rose enter the room. Aro's eyes peered at the open door, and then at Patches, looking rather embarrassed.

"Oh my! Do accept my sincerest apologies." _I should say so; he was locked out of his own home! _He sauntered to the door and closed it at once, then grasped the boy's middle and yanked him away from me. The apology, I confirmed, was not for him. "Now look at what you've done," he chastised. Patches took a look around at the trail of puddles he made, including the ones on my shirt, and buried his face in his hands. "You've tracked dirt in the castle and have successfully watered our guest."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice too weak for much volume.

"See to it that you clean this up," Aro commanded. Patches quickly nodded and dropped a bow. He took off his boots and stared at the damp spots on my top. He gave me one last apologetic look and hurried out of the room. "When you have dried yourself off," Aro called after him. "Meet me in my study; we have some…_matters _we need to discuss." When he left, I checked the wet spots on my shirt again, only now they were completely dry. How did the water evaporate so fast? The large puddles on the floor also vanished. All that remained were a few specks of dirt and a closer look into Aro's intentions.

"What was that about?" I questioned. The archaic vampire king spun on his heel with a bemused expression.

"What was what about?"

"That—the way you spoke to Patches just now."

"What about it? He made a mess, I admonished him."

"He's only soaking wet because he was locked outside _in the rain!_" It took him a second or two for him to comprehend that he neglected the situation and focused solely on the outcome. "He suffered a lot lately," I added. "He recently lost someone very close to him." Aro's stare grew serious, his irises darkening with suspicion.

"How do you know for sure?" he inquired.

"I see it in his soul. He's pining, Aro, and I'm sure he's starving for a kind word or a bit of affection." His expression softened, but his eyes remained cold and unfeeling. He must have known I was right, but couldn't acknowledge the fact that he was incapable to help him. I saw no love in his heart, only a thirst for power and control. Of this, I am certain: he never has nor ever will win another's loyalty without deception and ascendancy.

**Narrator's POV**

"Sssssssss," hissed the viper as it waded through puddles and up a grassy hill. On the hill stood a tall tree with a giant cavity in its trunk. It slithered up the tree branch by branch until it reached the cavity where a mound of material was stored in secret. Its head turned upward to the sky. The rain clouds moved on, but the wind still whistled through the foliage. It flicked its forked tongue thoughtfully before crawling under the thick cotton material. Rising from the cavity, an older teenage boy emerged with blonde hair and red eyes. His Volturi crest reflected dully from his chest. In the distance, the long, slender form of Demetri appeared at the base of the tree.

"That was your last duty as a Volturi guard," he said. The blonde nodded and jumped out of the trunk beside him.

"I know. It was all for him—to keep him alive." Demetri rolled his eyes with a hint of a chuckle.

"You really do love that boy, don't you Ethan?" Ethan heaved a heavy sigh.

"With all of my heart, soul, and every fiber in my being." He knew Demetri didn't care, but it had to be said, especially after purposely scaring him as he did.

"If you did your job well, you won't have to worry about him anymore. He'll beg for his old position and never let his mind wander beyond the castle walls again." Ethan frowned wistfully.

"I hope so. What happens now?"

"I'll require your cloak and crest," Demetri informed him with his palm outstretched. The smaller vampire gave him what he asked for, almost glad to be rid of them. "Ethan, you are hereby banished from Volterra and exiled into hiding. Upon any notion that you violate our laws or your sentence henceforth, you will be immediately executed before your lover and then he, too, shall perish." The other nodded, pressing his lips together at what that means.

"He thinks I'm dead." He glared at Demetri. "But that's not true."

"You're dead to him, and that's all that matters. Now go. I'm expected to be back soon." Reluctantly, Ethan went to the edge of the border and crossed it to the other side. He burst into a full run and headed west until he could see the castle no more. His life was spared; there was still some hope. _Someday Patches, _he vowed. _I'll come back for you and take you away from there. You'll be in my arms once more, and we'll be together forever._


	17. Plunging Into Madness

**Aro's POV**

Demetri returned shortly and gave a brief nod in my direction, indicating that he had done what I ordered. With Ethan out of the picture for the time being, I had much more control over my young vampire. I asked Felix and Jane to show my nomad friends our hospitality for the night while I retired to my study for a little chat with the boy. He was sitting in the large armchair in the corner where Renata usually lounged. His hands fretted in his lap, twisting like yin yang fish working competitively to achieve balance as they circled each other. He looked up at me upon my entrance and a wave of anxiety washed over him in ripples: his hands became still, his spine straightened itself properly erect, his feet planted themselves firmly on the floor, and all at once he stopped shivering, long enough to rise and lower his head in my passing. "M-Master," he greeted me with the meekest of tones.

"Please sit down, dear one. I promise you that this discussion will be succinct." I pulled up a chair across from him and we sat down simultaneously. He was reading my face, no doubt, to make an estimate of my mood.

At last, he bit his lower lip with compliant eyes. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Angel's words floated back to me, erasing any reason for me to be upset or disappointed with him. Of course, he only did what came natural to him; I would be distraught if he didn't. As long as he quakes at storms, he'll continue to trust me to keep him safe.

"No, no, of course not. You unsoiled your tracked-in puddles; I don't think that matter needs further discussion." I crossed one leg leisurely over the other and invited him to unwind as well. "I'd like to converse about your promotion." His eyes widened at attention ever so slightly, to which I grinned. "How does it seem to you?"

"Good!" he responded too quickly as if he memorized what he thought I wanted to hear. "Ah, _great_, actually…s-sort of."

"What do you mean by 'sort of'?" He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"I do like it, really. I just really don't like storms," he confessed, shivering a little. "O-Or snakes."

"Did you happen to encounter a snake today?" He vividly nodded.

"Mm-hmm, yes. A r-real b-big one. It came r-right at me!" Frowning, his crossed his arms over his legs, hunching over. "That's why I was late."

"I see, but you should know by now that storms happen during seasonal changes. It's a given that I expect you to be independent of the weather considering your position."

"I know," he sighed apologetically. A moment passed, and I could see the twist of conflict in his eyes. "Maybe," he murmured quietly, pondering out loud to himself. "It would be best…i-if I stayed inside instead?"

"Do you wish to have your old position back?" I inquired with an encouraging smile. He hesitantly licked his lips and slowly nodded. "Do you?" I asked again with a hint of subtext. I needed to hear him say it.

"Y-Yes." He hung his head. "You can demote me." I reached out and picked up his chin from his chest.

"Don't consider it as a demotion, but a _pro_motion—a step in the more fitting direction for you. Understand?" He swallowed. I could see through his thoughts that he wasn't satisfied returning to his original rank, but he was convinced that it was the best decision for his own good.

"Yes, Master." I released his chin and let him stand up.

"Good. You may see Demetri about retrieving your old cloak; he should be around somewhere, the sparring room, perhaps." He nodded and bowed his farewell before exiting my study. I grinned in triumph. He was finally starting to see things my way.

**Patches' POV**

Somberly, I trudged behind Demetri to the cloak closet and watched him unlock it to pull out the grey garment that still carried my scent. It was mine; it would always be mine. "You're an embarrassment," he growled, shoving the grey blob at my chest. "What Volturi guard can't handle a promotion after a little rain and one stupid snake?" I flinched backwards and moved to a vacant piece of corridor to put on my cloak. He didn't understand.

"Th-This _is _a promotion," I answered, finding some confidence in my voice. "A b-better f-fit." Demetri just scoffed.

"Of course, you're absolutely right. You are exactly where you belong." He marched over to me and put his hands on my shoulders, exerting some pressure to weigh me down. "Don't think for a moment you could ever achieve any higher purpose than what you are good at—housekeeping." His words stung my ears and eyes, but as usual, he was right. I couldn't bear to look at him—the strong, quick, smart vampire I could never hope to become. "I only tell you this because Ethan wouldn't want you to give Aro or Caius any reason to twist off your head. He and I used to be friends." The very mention of that name drove me to silent, invisible tears. I tried to shy away, but his grip only tightened. "Yes, I miss him too…but you must move on. I already have."

"H-How can I?" I whispered hoarsely as the red pains of hurt shoved my heart into my navel.

"Think of something happy, any happy memory. Busy yourself to concentrate on something else if that isn't successful." I slowly nodded; chores were the answer to everything, but they didn't help me escape as much as I thought they would.

"Okay, I'll try," I answered with a small strain of strength and faith in my voice.

"See that you do." With that, Demetri disappeared, his long dark cloak flicking around the corner behind him. I exhaled a deep sigh as I headed to a supply closet, wishing so desperately that I could amount to more than this. The adults like to tell children that they could grow up to be whatever they want. That's one of the biggest lies I've ever heard. They left out the exception. You could be whatever you want _as long as you're good at it and if it's in demand. _Otherwise, you'll be miserable and out of a job, which usually means dismemberment here. My shoulders came up to my ears to guard my neck at the very thought of being replaced, but the fear wasn't as strong this time. Maybe—if I ever was beheaded and burned—I'd go to wherever Ethan went and I'll see him again. Maybe…just maybe.

**Angel's POV**

"Honestly, Angel, this place gives me the creeps," Rose said on my left as we left the garden back inside the huge castle.

"The feeling is mutual. I smell something rotten in Volterra."

She squeezed my forearm and whispered in my ear, "I want to leave _right_ now."

"I'm working on it," I whispered back. I wouldn't let Aro keep us here, but there would be no point in leaving only to be tracked down and brought right back. The only way we could escape unharmed was if Aro himself willingly let us go. And that was not likely to happen. What we needed was a good plan. "I've got it!"

"What is it, Angel?"

"Chelsea, Aro's little mind-control tool. If you find her and order her to stem her hold on the guards, then maybe we could use that to our advantage. Find the ones who are truly loyal and separate them from those who wouldn't dare join the Volturi if they were in their right minds." Rose kissed my cheek with a happy smile.

"My darling husband, you are a genius!" She picked up her pace and turned around when she saw that I wasn't following. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"No, I think I'll look around the private sectors—just to see how many are trapped here. There's a chance I'll find someone Chelsea hasn't messed with." She nodded and took off, heading for the staircase that led to rows of chambers. I turned a corner down a narrow hallway, looking at the ancient chandelier that loomed above me. It must have been a few hundred years old but still gleamed with the shininess of youth: well-polished arms and new bulbs greeted every passerby that neared it. How curious that such preserved objects remained lost in time as the world aged around them. Immortality, it seemed, was wasted on the wrong individuals.

"The sun will come ouuuuut to-mor-row," a lonely voice sang softly nearby. I tore my eyes from the chandelier and cautiously, curiously approached the sound. "Bet your bottom dol-lar that to-mor-rooow…there'll be sunnnn." I stopped at the doorway when I saw who it was. Patches was standing atop a ladder in a large library, dusting off the tops of the bookcases to the rhythm of his song. "Just thinking about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrooooow, 'till there's none." When he finished with one section, he scooted himself to the next in full view of a tall window. I snuck inside and stood a little ways off behind the ladder, following his eyes to a view outside the window.

Two puppies were playing in a wide open field of grass, one white and one light grey. They frolicked and pounced on each other for a little while when the white one came to a tall hill that basked in the rays of sunlight. It stood at the top and started to lay down as if it might take a nap when suddenly it pushed itself off the edge and rolled down the slope. The grey one saw what was going on and came to its friend's aid, helping it up. That's when I saw the milky pupils of the white puppy; it was completely blind. "When I'm stuck with a daaaay that's greeeey and looo-onelyyy, I just stick out my chiiiiin, and griiiin, and saaaay, ohhhh…the sun'll come out tomorrow, so you gotta h-hang on 'till t-tomorrow, c-come what m-m-maa-ay-ay-aay…" His voice began to crack terribly and I knew he was thinking of something, a lost memory perhaps. The grey puppy offered the white one its tail, who happily held it in its mouth as the grey one led it back up the hill. Once they were at the top, the grey pup kissed the white pup on its cheeks and ears until it let go of the tail and lay down. The grey one followed suit and lay alongside the white, resting its head protectively over the other's snowy neck.

"T-To-mor-row, to-mor-row, I l-love ya, to-mor-row. Y-You're always a day aw-way. Tooo-mor-row, to-mor-row! I-I love ya, tomorrow. You're a-always a daaaay ah-waaaay!" It was too much for Patches, whose last note dissolved into painful sobs. I looked between him and the puppies, wondering why they were giving him such distress. Now looked like an ideal time to intervene.

"Hey, Patches," I said calmly so as not to startle him. He flinched with a small yelp as if I struck him and fell silent, feverishly scrubbing the dust onto his cloth with sharp, frantic jerks. He didn't even turn around to see who I was. "What are you doing?" I casually asked. He shook his head in a strange way and began to visibly tremble like a corked bottle about to explode.

"M-Must f-forget," he stuttered out in a strained voice. Something was very wrong here. He looked like his sanity was about to snap at any moment. "M-Must move on." He hid his face from me as he moved the ladder over to finish the bookcase.

"Patches, are you okay?" I inquired, now concerned for his health.

"G-Gotta hang on 'till t-tomorrow," was the only response. I took that as a 'no'.

"Come here," I coaxed, gently taking hold of his waist to help him down. "Let's take a break from that." He whimpered in protest, but didn't struggle as I lifted him off the ladder and onto the carpet floor. He sniffled back a cry for help, looking fearfully into my eyes. I gave him a small, sympathetic smile and took his hand, walking to a couple of comfy chairs in the center of the room. "Make yourself comfortable," I said, sitting down in one chair and gesturing to the other. He glanced at where I was pointing and decided against it, plopping down on the floor between the two chairs instead. He silently lay down on his stomach and tucked his elbows in, not taking his wary eyes off mine. "What's the matter?" When he didn't respond, I continued. "Please know that you can tell me anything." He softened his gaze and looked away as if he was debating on whether he could trust me or not.

"I-I lost my…n-never mind. I'm s-supposed to m-move on." It was clear he didn't want to talk about it, so I went straight to my main point of curiosity.

"Patches, are you happy here?" There was a long moment of silence, which I took in the negation. If it wasn't an easy 'yes', then logic points to the other.

"Wh-What if I said yes?" he asked.

"Then I'd call you a liar," I answered, chuckling lightly. Another pause followed.

"Would I be in trouble i-if I said no?" I frowned at that response. He was so careful, so cautious, and still so young. Whereas any other seventeen year old's work is play, his play was more work. I wanted to change that.

"Patches, it is always okay to say no. Don't be afraid to express how you feel." He nervously bit his lower lip and stared at the carpet.

"Then no," he mumbled in a low voice. He swallowed and looked at me, broken and helpless. "How can I be happy here?" he whispered. "My friend's gone, my new job is gone, my dreams are gone…and yet I _still_ have to be happy or else Master Aro is going to tell Chelsea to take my feelings away!" I didn't know how to help him, so I simply patted his head.

"There, there. It'll be alright soon. Frankly, I'm not happy with Aro at the moment. My wife is taking care of Chelsea right now." Normally, I wouldn't be so open with my opinions in front of potentially dangerous audiences, but I felt like I could trust this boy.

"Uhm, 'taking care' of her?" he asked with a quizzical expression.

"Yes," I nodded. "She's going to see if we can leave Volterra peacefully without any of the guards—namely Demetri—tailing us." He still didn't get it. Then I remembered that I left out a crucial piece. "Rose has the power of intense hypnosis. With all of her concentration, she can get anyone to do anything. Do you get it now?" He frowned miserably and grudgingly gave the affirmative. "Now what's wrong?"

"You're going to leave me too!" he cried. "That doesn't make me feel better!" I saw the conflict, but not an inkling of a resolution.

"You can run away too. Go find a better place to call home." He shook his head and buried his face into the carpet.

"I-I can't."

"What do you mean? Of course you can," I assured him, but he wouldn't take it.

"I mean _I can't_," he repeated, more confident this time. "I can't survive out there alone," he admitted. "I can't fight, I can't hunt by myself, I _need _safety. At least here, I know where my next meal is coming from and where I can go during a storm. Master Aro takes care of me out of his kind heart. H-He saved my life twenty years ago and took me in—gave me a bath, food, clothes, a job—and for that I owe him everything."

"But out there, you can have freedom. Make your own choices? Doesn't that sound good?" He thought about it for a moment.

"Not really. I have everything I need right here."

"Everything you need, perhaps, but everything you _want_?" He shook his head.

"It's not possible for me to get what I want," he said desolately.

"Really? What's that?" He sniffed back another sob.

"For s-someone to love me, l-like…like—Please excuse me!" He shot up, covering his face with both hands, and dashed off without another word. I could hear his pitiful moans all the way up the stairs, silently praying that the sun will indeed come out tomorrow and let its light come streaming into his life.

**Patches' POV**

I didn't stop until I reached my room and plopped myself facedown on my bed. "What is wrong with me?!" I screamed in frustration. Nothing made sense anymore. How am I supposed to pretend that everything's okay when everything is clearly _not _okay? A little blue butterfly perched on my window ledge, but it made no difference. I was scared of being a disappointment, still mourning over the greatest loss in my existence, and the only person I could confide in was more or less a stranger I barely even knew. Master Aro gave me a promotion, and then took it away. He introduced me to Ethan, and then took him away too. He gave me another chance at life, only to tell me that I wasn't allowed to have dreams of living it the way I wanted to. He would always be my savior, but I began to doubt if he was my friend anymore. "Am I going mad?" I asked aloud. The world seemed to swirl around me. I planted my face firmly into my pillow in hopes that a little rest would put my mind right.

"No, my love," came the tiniest whisper just outside my window. I lifted my head to see the butterfly resting near a crack in the glass. "You are becoming sane."

* * *

**Author's Note: Did you love this one? Maybe liked it a little? If you did, please leave me a little review at the bottom so that I can get an idea of how I'm doing. I'm currently taking suggestions as to where this story should go next. Any ideas? Thanks for reading and God bless! **


	18. Truth Revealed, Deception Hidden

**Narrator's POV**

Everyone loves an instrument virtuoso. Aro shifted his position on his piano bench and smiles at the wide array of instruments surrounding him—long or wide, fat or narrow, all of them perfectly in tune and available for him to play as he liked. And he can play them all, sometimes transposing the music himself so that he could play the same song on any instrument. Occasionally, a violin string would break or a cello would lose its shine, but they were only minor problems that could be easily fixed and dealt with. He hated to throw his beloved instruments away whenever they were dented and wrecked to a point beyond repair, but if he couldn't get any music out of them, what further use were they?

"Aro, a moment, please." The ancient turned to the entrance to see Caius's blonde head next to Marcus's apathetic, yet pensive, face.

"Of course. What seems to be of concern, Caius?"

"A matter that should have been taken care of twenty years ago," Caius answered coldly, sweeping into the room shadowed by Marcus.

"Has another wolf shown its face near our borders again?" Aro asked with naïve innocence. Marcus cleared his throat.

"Caius refers to your little guard, Patches." Aro rose to his full height and came face to face with his coven brothers. The subject just moved to a personal level.

"What about him?"

"Others have recently informed us that he's not well—mentally. He's starting to raise concern, and we feel that it's time to—"

"Kill him," Caius supplied.

"_Or _let him go, as you did Ethan," Marcus added. He never wanted anyone's death and tried to avoid it as much as possible, yet he balanced this with his duty to protect and preserve their supernatural realm which was the paramount priority.

"He is fine," Aro stubbornly disagreed. "I've spoken to him."

"Brother, you are deceiving yourself," said Marcus sadly. "He is just not the same boy anymore. He used to be happy and willing to please, but now he's miserable and frankly terrified out of his wits. It's not healthy." Aro clenched his hands into defensive fists.

"How can you know this?"

"I can see it in his relationship ties. He is distancing himself from everyone here. Even you, Aro, are slipping away from his trust."

"Which is why we should kill him," Caius interjected.

"_Or _let him go," Marcus repeated, raising a hasty finger.

"He's too unmanageable and will be nothing but trouble!" the blonde argued.

"Enough!" Aro held up his hands to break the dispute. "Peace, my brothers. I've decided upon a compromise that neither ends him nor releases him, since both are inauspicious ideas." He sighed that it had come to this, but knew what must be done. "It's time to take him to Corin." Corin was the comfort guard, the one whose power can relieve the mind of all its stress and unwanted emotions. It didn't guarantee happiness, but it did create a false sense of contentment and peace. Currently, she resided in the hidden tower that housed Aro's and Caius's trophy wives.

"It won't revive him in the way you'd like, Aro," Marcus pointed out. "You'd only be limiting his expressible emotions."

"I'm aware, Marcus." Aro glanced at Caius for his approval, who remained stagnant in the unbiased middle. "But I'm running out of options, and this is the only rational course of action that I have left."

**Carly's POV**

I entered my chamber after my torturing duties; a shower was required to wash off the ashes and dirty blood of criminal vampires facing justice. Then I would be needed again for combat training with Felix. After that I…don't know. I wait for orders. The water turned on at my touch, already warm at perfection. Once I stepped into the spray, something strange occurred: I began to think. Personal thoughts, memories, opinions entered my mind and flowed as easily as the droplets falling on my head. This wasn't a normal occurrence; in fact, I didn't know what to make of it except to recite what I know.

I am Carly Royce Smith. I am 16. I was born in Colorado and dancing is my life…_was _my life. I took a wrong flight and ended up here. Caius changed me into a vampire and now I…_hate _him! I looked at my hands, his murder and torture tool of choice. For him, I burned and branded and destroyed quite a number of vampires and even some humans to reserve for later consumption.

Why? Because I had no choice. Choices were stripped away from me once I was introduced to the one female guard with the light brown hair—Chelsea. Since then, I remember a grey cloud of distant memories, as if my time here had been figments of a recurring dream, a dark, sick fantasy. I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. If it all seemed like a dream before, then why did I just wake up?

I dressed myself and went downstairs where the sparring room was located, when I heard a soft, mournful humming from the adjacent hallway. There was a boy in a light grey cloak, and he was adjusting some of the slightly crooked picture frames caused by careless tourists. I couldn't see his face, but something about him told me that we've met before. It could be his voice; it could be his scent…yes! Now I remember! The peculiar little fellow that gave me food. It had to be—

"Patches?" I saw him freeze and close up as if a chill swept down on top of him. He slowly turned around, and suddenly I had a face to match the name. He had mad orange-brown hair, big scared eyes, and lips that stretched to a corner with a noticeable scar broken into his left cheek. Above his Voturi crest was another necklace—a band of silver an inch high. The writing on the side of it confirmed that this was the vampire who showed me kindness in this whole wretched place. I expected him to recognize me too, but his eyes remained lowered. "Patches, it's me, Carly. Don't you remember?" He quickly nodded, but still didn't say a word. "I think something's happened to me, but I don't understand. I'm suddenly in my right mind and everything feels wrong." I advanced toward him. "Please, I don't know who else to turn to." He bit his lower lip and turned away, taking a few steps back toward a painting of Ophelia from _Hamlet_. I didn't understand him; why did he seem so afraid of me? He must have seen me use my power to inflict pain on another, back when I was ruthless and deprived of emotion. He saw me as a monster, one of the true monsters I never wished to meet, let alone become. I sighed and crossed behind him. That was when I heard his voice.

"Oh dear, innocent Ophelia, why did you enter the king's palace only to be used by him? Did you not know what you were getting into when you carried out the king's tasks? Ah, if only you knew sooner that Hamlet was only acting crazy to deceive his superiors while he tries to sort things out. What he doesn't mention is that he must never directly speak to you or look you in the eye lest the king grows suspicious and twists off his head." I stopped to listen to his words, so poetic and carefully worded, yet carried a hinting tone of subtext. Especially that last sentence; I repeated it in my mind and then I caught onto his little game. Going down the hallway of paintings, I recognized one from my childhood—an illustration of Alice and the cards painting the roses red from _Alice in Wonderland_. I stepped in front of it and started talking with the intention of perceiving a message.

"You sad, fearful cards of Wonderland, how could you feign a smile for the innocent girl who just arrived in this wicked kingdom without a trace of pity or a word of advice? Instead, you expect her to pick up a paintbrush and work alongside you for the mere fun of it. Why don't you tell her what's truly bothering you so that you might save her from a terrible fate? Then she in turn could save you and neither would lose his or her head." Out of the corner of my eye, Patches looked down at his boots and drummed his fingers on his pant leg, most likely conjuring up a response. After a moment, he glanced back up at the woman in the painting.

"How now, Ophelia? Could your confusion be so great as to deal you the stroke of death in a river? The waves of doubt blind you from what you already know: Hamlet loves you. With all his heart, he loves you. He never wanted to see you get hurt, or drown and die. He only pretends to not care to save his life and yours too. The king desires the power and authority and up until now expected no quarrel with Hamlet because he was practically family to him. But Hamlet knows that the king is not as good as he thinks he is, for he killed Hamlet's father, his closest relationship, and still expects obedience. Well Ophelia, your Hamlet is still as confused as you are. To be or not to be, that is the question." I hung onto his every word and actually understood his struggle. It was a cry for help and an apology. And possibly a love confession. Possibly.

"I wonder if the cards know how to get out of Wonderland and take Alice away from the treacherous Queen of Hearts."

"If you, Ophelia, should wish to have a proper burial, Hamlet would take you North to Norway and then West to the Northern Sea. That is the easiest and quickest way out of Denmark to his knowledge. Hamlet wishes you farewell in hopes that he'll see you again in the next life."

"And Alice thanks the cards with a silent prayer that they come with her to avoid any risk of losing their heads for any reason." Patches sighed and shook his head, his hand reaching up to touch his Volturi crest.

"I'm sorry, Ophelia, but Hamlet must stay in Denmark. This is where he calls home, even if it is dark and horrible at times." He turned away from me and walked off without another word. I wished him well. The world needed more people like him, not less. I stared at the paintings for a few more minutes, caring less and less about my appointment with Felix. He was so arrogant, so downright irritating that I'd have nothing to do with him if I could help it. Unfamiliar footsteps quickly approached the hallway; I saw in a second that they belonged to our male guest. His eyes met mine but he appeared to be looking for someone else.

"Have you seen Patches around? Little guy, reddish-brown hair, about this height?" He gave an estimated measurement with his hand that rested a couple of inches below his shoulder. I wondered if they planned to meet here.

"Yes, I just saw him not too long ago. If you want, I could help find him for you," I offered with a smile, trying to be helpful to this friend of Patches.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm sure he has his reasons for taking off." I nodded and stepped aside to let him pass. "I'm sure you do too," he added in a low, secretive voice.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Taking off, running away, getting out of here. My wife—you know her as the woman I came here with—made Chelsea retract her power and control over you and the entire Guard, and then ordered her to forget that it ever happened. In other words, you're free to leave this place and never come back if you so wish." He flashed a quick smile, but then his voice became grave with seriousness. "You only have a small window, though. The leaders don't know that you have your mind and conscience intact. Flee now while they won't expect it." I pressed my lips together with resolution and nodded.

"I will. Thank you." His smile returned as he rushed off to find Patches. I turned the other direction and paced up the stairs to my chamber. I pulled out a couple of large bags and swiftly set to work packing all the essentials: clothes, money—at least any gold pieces I could find, jewelry to trade or wear, toiletry bottles and creams, makeup, and a few glass bottles to fill with blood if I ever experience the need to ration. Finally, I pried open my bedroom window and threw my bag over the side before following it down. I shut the window from the outside so that no one would immediately deduce that I left before checking every section of the castle. Time was now against me, and I had such a precious amount that I chose to dedicate it all to my freedom—forever. To northwest and home, wherever that is.

**Angel's POV**

I struggled to contain my laughter, but the joy was too great. Me, a modest nomad for over thirty years, successfully deceiving a three-thousand year old vampire king, nay, _kings_. Rose and I were spreading the word of Chelsea's unexpected amnesia to those who lost their "Volturi-ness" in hopes that they would run away and find a more prosperous future elsewhere. Mostly it was the Lower Guard that felt trapped here while the members with the darker cloaks didn't have much of a change in their personalities or their souls. Perhaps they had become so accustomed to the sadism and gore that they had grown to like it and accept it as part of who they truly are.

I searched the common corridors for Patches, but I couldn't find him anywhere…until I heard him scream. It was the same scream of pure terror that I heard on the night of the big storm. I ran to the sound and found myself in a nearly hidden corner of the castle. A spiral of stone steps led to the top of a tower that resembled a lighthouse without any light. Through a window on the side, I saw the boy being escorted up the steps by two of the Upper Guard: the thick Felix and the petite yet deadly Jane. Caius marched in front of them with something coiled around his hand.

"I don't want to go!" Patches wailed, resisting as hard as he could against the guards who held him. "Not up there, Master! Please don't make me!"

"Quiet!" Caius growled, whipping around with an open hand. He slapped Patches across the face to shut him up. Three slow changes followed that motion. First, Patches froze, immediately ending the struggle for him to register what just happened. Then, the light and life went out of his eyes like a snuffed candle. He dropped his head to his chest in defeat and submission. Finally, he began to cry, silent and helpless. His eyes squeezed shut while his lips curled into a tight frown. His small chest began to heave with deep, shaky breaths that sent trembles all over the rest of his body.

It tore me apart to see him in pain, but I could do nothing except watch and witness. Rose wasn't with me to rescue him, but her alone on three evil, experienced vampires left her outnumbered. I couldn't be of much help; my power only worked on those who actually had souls. They couldn't possibly lose anything they didn't have. Whatever awaited them at the top, I gathered that it was something horrible. Unlike his current company, Patches had much to lose—all good things that separated him from the true soulless monsters that fashioned themselves a pyramid of authority and unjustly shoved him at the bottom. The question I feared most was a question I dreaded to answer: What more were the Volturi going to take from him?


End file.
